


Parasite

by askalfendilaytonmod



Category: Layton Brothers: Mystery Room, Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Mental Breakdown, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 11:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 32,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11896380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/askalfendilaytonmod/pseuds/askalfendilaytonmod
Summary: Parasite, noun. An organism that lives in another and benefits at the host’s expense, habitually relying on and exploiting them while giving nothing in return.Only one has the right to call themselves Alfendi Layton, and Potty’s sure as Hell going to make it him.Finally reposted from my tumblr.





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I was honoured to have a positive response to this story when I posted it on tumblr a few years back, and I'm finally putting it on other sites too. It's interesting how much my thoughts about the characters have changed since then, but I have not edited the story to reflect this. Hope you enjoy!

He’d never be able to pinpoint an exact time and moment.

Which really, he found odd. It went against his usual personality - or personalities - to be imprecise. Everything else was always narrowed down to the minute details; he needed to know the very second a witness saw something, as well as everything about it. In his experience, the smaller details seemed to help more than the larger ones; the criminals always slipped up there.

But in this case, what did it matter? It wouldn’t have made a shred of difference in the end, pinpointing the exact moment his feelings for Lucy Baker crossed the line of friendly.

He supposed it had happened gradually. The pride that welled up inside him when she solved something on her own, the way he looked forward to her arrival at the Mystery Room, the disappointment if she called in sick… oh yes. Things had happened ever so gradually that he, a genius inspector, hasn’t actually realised.

It was somewhat embarrassing. Though, he supposed logical thinking and emotions came under two different categories, and while he excelled in one, he lacked in the other.

But he’d come to terms with it when one day, she’d come in too close of contact, and he’d found his heart hammering wildly and a blush unlike him at all creeping onto his face. He could practically hear his other side sneering.

_So you’ve finally deduced it then. That took you long enough._

Yes. Yes it had.

The next problem was how to go about things. He knew that if her feelings were not the same, it would make things incredibly awkward if he were to confess. Dare he risk it, ruining what was such a lovely little partnership in the hope of something more?

But… somehow, he thought that was better than if he were to stay silent. It was causing him a lot of inner turmoil, not knowing.

A week passed after he made his decision, leading Alfendi to his current position. Shaking slightly, he was subtly trying to clear his throat as Lucy was packing things up for the day.

“Wot a case that were, Prof!” she announced, grinning from ear to ear. “I’d never have thought it; that lad didn’t look like ‘e could hurt a fly! But we solved it, you di'n’t even have to turn into Potty Prof!”

At the mention of his other self, he felt something stir inside him, as though her remark had been an invitation. But no, he couldn’t let it happen now. He was certain that a few death threats would ruin everything. “Yes, it was an interesting case,“ Alfendi murmured, trying to find the words.

Lucy looked up, a small frown appearing. "You ‘right, Prof? You seem a tad ill.”

He swallowed.

Well, it was now or never, as they said.

“Ah, I’m fine thank you,” he said. “Actually, I…”

Words weren’t usually a hassle for him, but he didn’t exactly have any experience in this area, leaving him completely stuck on how to continue.“Well, how would you… um…”

This was harder than he’d thought. By now Lucy seemed confused; he wasn’t doing a good job at this.

“W-Would you mind… perhaps, allowing me to accompany you somewhere?” he finally asked, his face beginning to flush red. “As in, not during a work related matter? Like… a date?”

Her mouth slowly grew into a smile after his words. “By 'eck, Prof, you really 'ad me thinking something were wrong for a sec!” Lucy exclaimed. She finished up what she was doing, laughing a little in relief. “With the way you were acting I really thought it were bad news.”

He laughed nervously, not knowing whether her reaction was a good one or a bad one.

It seemed to occur to Lucy that she hadn’t given him a proper answer, as she stopped suddenly and looked back at him.  "And of course, I’d love that, really!” she added, turning a slight shade of pink that Alfendi couldn’t deny he found somewhat adorable.

As she left, he all but collapsed into a chair, smiling to himself. He’d done it. He’d tried to start something and it had ended up working.

For a strange moment, Alfendi felt himself slipping into his other side, his control leaving him. It took him a minute or so to come back, his smile now gone.

“Stop it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He could almost hear his other self laughing in reply.


	2. Missing Person

That one short conversation between them was the catalyst for a relationship that in everybody’s eyes, couldn’t have gone better. The first few weeks were awkward as the two slowly tried to adjust to the changes – like the small comments made by Florence, Sniffer and Dustin whenever they came into their presence that sent their cheeks red in a second. But that soon faded.

The months passed until they finally turned into a year, and the relationship had continued slowly yet without a hitch, which had surprised Alfendi. It wasn’t as though he thought that they weren’t compatible, or that there was something about their relationship that felt off. He knew that he loved Lucy, and that she loved him. But there was another ‘person’ – so to speak – in the equation to consider, and his reaction was something that Alfendi had always feared.

It would only take some stupid move from his other side to ruin everything, and it was a risk he didn’t care to take. The problem was that it wasn’t really in his control.

The issue wasn’t brought up at all during the year, due to there being no reason. It was Lucy who finally acknowledged it.

“You know, Prof,” she began.

A year later and she still called him that. It didn’t feel odd; truthfully, he preferred her using it when in the Mystery Room, the name Alfendi only coming out after work hours. It kept things simpler, somehow, and ensured that things didn’t interfere with their jobs.

Even so, they had an hour before they were supposed to leave, and it’d been a slow day. They were both resting on the couch, Lucy’s head on his lap. “Yes?” he responded.

“We haven’t seen Potty Prof in a while.”

She was pointing out the obvious, but he knew he’d been ignoring the issue and it probably wasn’t the best way to deal with it. He hadn’t changed since the brief time after he’d asked her out; an entire year without seeing anything of his other side, and Alfendi still didn’t know whether it was a good thing or not. It’d been on his mind for a while.

He supposed that, among everything else, he just wanted to know why it had happened. It wasn’t as though there had been a lack of excitement around; the criminals they’d faced had been dangerous, sly and pathetic, just what he liked.

“No,” he murmured. “We haven’t.”

“Do… do you ever feel like he’ll appear?” Lucy asked, her head turning towards him to reveal a set of curious eyes. “When we’re close to cracking a case or somethin’?”

Slowly, Alfendi shook his head. “It’s almost as though there was nothing there to begin with.”  _Like I’m normal_. “But he didn’t seem to be getting weaker beforehand, he just… went. I’m as perplexed as you.”

With a small ‘huh’, Lucy looked away, seeming lost in thought. He was about to say something, however she beat him to it.

“Do you miss him?”

He found a small chuckle escaping his lips. “I think his manner of dealing with things could vastly be improved, particularly the threats. I don’t want to be responsible for hurting somebody, but I’m afraid that’s what could happen if I let him have too much control over my body.”

He stopped for a second, considering it. “However, he understands criminals far better than I could ever hope to, and solving a case to him is instinct. It’s been considerably trickier without him, I can’t deny that.”

“You’re still a genius, Prof, unlike ‘nybody else,” she assured, grinning. Somehow, he found their hands entwining, enjoying a moment of silence.

Finally, she spoke again. “You always talk about him as though he’s an entirely different person though, but ‘e’s not. It’s you, just a different part, right?”

Alfendi sighed, closing his eyes. “I’m still not sure. Our personalities are so different, and we don’t even seem to share all the same memories. It’s like the only thing we have in common is this body.”

He was a puzzle, one that not even his father would be able to solve, and that knowledge had kept him awake many nights before. The disappearance of his other self didn’t even cause relief, only unease. Something was terribly off about it.

“He can’t be me,” he said quietly, even though Alfendi knew that wasn’t the truth either.


	3. Danger

It happened a week later.

Alfendi and Lucy were crammed into the Mystery Room among countless case files that were stacked dangerously on nearly everything, pouring themselves over a mystery that was taking far too long to solve. It had left them stumped the entire day, and frustration was gripping both.

“It’s an impossible crime, I don’t understand,” Alfendi muttered. “With the facts as we know them, it couldn’t have been done by any of the suspects; everything just contradicts!”

Lucy’s head was placed atop yet another pile of documents in defeat, and she groaned. “How could that be?” she said, her voice muffled. “Surely we ‘aven’t overlooked anything?”

For a second, Alfendi seemed to phase out, the words repeating over and over in his mind before they became a blur and then fell into nothingness itself. Everything seemed to dim, but all of a sudden he came back, revelations that he wasn’t in control of tumbling out of his mouth.

“No, we’ve done the opposite; we’ve factored in something we shouldn’t have, it’s the only way this case could be possible.” His hands fumbled about in the files, trying his hardest to pinpoint the one witness account that changed everything. He at last found it, stabbing a finger at the sentence.

“We’ve been chasing the wrong lead from the start. This one, tiny little statement affects the whole case… and it’s fake. Taking it out of the equation, all the bigger things fit in place; the timeline flows, the evidence make sense and the one who mislead us is staring at us mockingly because he’s the murderer.”

The seemingly concrete fact that they’d previously had no reason to doubt shattered, and with it the foundations of their false speculations fell. It had consumed far too much time, trying to untangle the mess of the case, but it was finally done. The suspect that hadn’t seemed to hold much relevance to the murder was the one pulling the strings of the puppet theatre while standing on stage himself, a mastermind parading as an ordinary person.

Alfendi had a feeling that, were his other side present, he’d have liked this particular murderer.

As Lucy turned away for a second to call the Commissioner, he felt his head drop into his hands, the beginnings of a migraine present. What had just happened? Usually when making a discovery he was aware of every little connection his mind made, feeling things click into place one by one. But just now, it had been a blur. He hadn’t even been thinking.

It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in a year, but it was familiar nonetheless. All that was missing was the side that really should have been present in his dazed absence, but if he had been Lucy would’ve surely said something.

“Prof, we have to go,” she announced, slamming the phone down and pulling him to his feet. “I know you hate leavin’, but the Commissioner said most of the officers are on a drug bust. He’s told me to sit tight and wait but…” Her eyes were ablaze. “We’ve wasted so much time, he migh’ already be gone!”

It was stupidly dangerous of them, but they found themselves running to the scene, thankfully not too far away, feeling as though they didn’t have a choice. They were desperate not to let this criminal out of their sights any longer than they already had.

So, fighting off the hatred for having to leave, Alfendi only looked forward as he sprinted.

They burst into the building, finding the culprit in the process of cleaning up the last of the evidence. Typical.

It would have gone fine, Alfendi thought later on, had he not been armed. Every reason for why he preferred to stay inside the Mystery Room came back to him in that very second, and by instinct he moved to protect Lucy as the man’s eyes fell on her, but it was a little too late. She was too far away from him, her eyes wide with shock and fear.

He felt a pang of guilt. Though she’d messed up in her written exams something terrible, on the field Lucy had known what she was doing. But she’d had no use for those skills when working in the Mystery Room, and where did that leave her now when she needed them?

The knife made its way towards her in particular, it’s user on the brink of insanity, the cockiness at the thought of  _nearly getting away_  evident. Alfendi and Lucy stepped back, but found all ways of escape lost to them. They were in the predator’s lair and  _trapped_.

But worse than that, Lucy was inches away from harm.

A loud sound filled his mind that he likened to the intelligible static he sometimes heard on the radio. He become frozen, panicked, and suddenly the thought of ‘ _DO SOMETHING’_ cut through everything else he felt.

He couldn’t give an accurate description of what happened next because his memory simply wouldn’t allow it. He just knew that his body was no longer in his control the moment he saw the man lay a hand on Lucy, and he’d done… something. Something crazy, something unexpected.

Something that he knew hadn’t really been his doing.

He seemed to come out of the daze, finding the man at his feet and a shocked Lucy standing nearby, shaking slightly.

“A-Alfendi?” she asked, her voice drained.

The inspector could only stare down at the body, a sickening feeling growing in his stomach. His hands had blood on them, as did the knife in his grasp. How had that happened? He put the pieces together, feeling his mouth go dry.

No. No no no no no.

 “Is he…?” he whispered, trembling.

He hadn’t meant to do that, he hadn’t meant to hurt anybody! It seemed like the nightmare of Forbodium Castle had only just left, but was he going to be faced with another so soon? The idea made him want to scream.

It was only when that despairing thought hit him that he felt something warm trickling down his arm, the source of it stinging. Lifting it up, he realised he had a cut trailing down from his elbow to his wrist. Thankfully, it didn’t seem too deep.

He looked at Lucy for a second before staring at the body, realising with a jolt that it didn’t seem to have any signs of a stab wound.

“Ay, I think ‘e’s just knocked out,” Lucy said, her voice stronger. “You hit ‘im pretty hard.”

She came to his side, taking hold of his arm gently. He hissed, the knife clattering to the ground noisily as he still stared forward, completely dumbfounded.

“But that were amazing,” she said somewhat breathlessly. “‘He… ‘e was so close to gettin’ us, you know? And then suddenly… bam!” Her eyes were filled with some sort of excitement. “You just sprung into action and went at ‘im, and even though ‘e got you with the knife, you just kept on going and it were a real struggle! Then you finally got it out of ‘is hands, and then whack! And ‘e’s down.”

“Have… have you called the Commissioner or anybody?” he asked, trying to sort out his thoughts.

“Not yet, you’d have heard if I ‘ad,” she replied. “I’ll do it now.” Realising that he seemed pained, she let go of his arm suddenly. “Sorry, I should call an ambulance first, you’re ‘urt.”

He shook his head. Slowly, he pulled her into a tight embrace, his heart rate slowing. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes. Somehow, it had been far too close a call in just about every way.”

“Not badly. Only call one for the gentleman currently lying on the ground.”


	4. I am

The first thing Alfendi did when they arrived back to his flat, after answering far too many questions about what had transpired, was excuse himself to have a shower.

He let the hot water attack his skin, sighing as he ran his fingers through his tangled hair. It wasn’t a sigh of relief, but frustration mixed in with confusion. He felt his newly acquired scar stinging slightly, but he didn’t care enough to do anything about it. Right then, he needed to be left alone with his thoughts.

Alone. What a strange concept. Up until a year ago, he’d never been alone. His other side had always been there, whether he was in control or not. There had always been a shadow hanging over him even on the brighter days, making it difficult to do much without worrying that the world would suddenly become dark.

Closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to go blank. It was something he rarely did because of the fear that he’d suddenly slip away, but he just needed to know. Surely, if his other side was back, he’d feel something, right? He had to.

He stripped his restraints away one by one, holding his breath when he felt nothing left. He was vulnerable. He hoped he’d be able to do something in the case his other side suddenly snapped into action, but it was unlikely.

But in his mind was only silence; there was no presence of another. Somehow, that made it even scarier.

If his other side wasn’t there, then something was wrong with him. There was a reason he’d seemingly been pushed out of his own consciousness only to disarm and knock out a man, and if it wasn’t the doing of his other side then what could have caused it? Not knowing made him uneasy.

Leaning back against the cold tiles, he trembled. He always needed to know what was going on in the outside world, but it was only then that he realised not knowing within the internal one was much more frightening.

After another few minutes, he stepped out of the shower, quickly drying himself off.

Whatever it was, he wouldn’t allow himself to think about it. Though he couldn’t rule out the possibility of his other side being back or something being wrong, it could have just been a spur of the moment thing. The human body did amazing things when put under pressure; he’d seen it plenty of times, the most fragile of people being capable of destroying those twice their size.

It was adrenaline. There had been a threat, he’d reacted, and the consequence had been that they’d gotten away safely. That was all.

Any way to comfort himself was good, even if it could have easily been a lie.

Getting dressed into a new change of clothes, Alfendi knew he had to keep strong for Lucy, if not for himself. She’d worry, and she didn’t need the extra stress. Neither of them did, but she’d been through enough that day.

Amongst everything else, he didn’t want to lose her.

 –

Lucy was sitting in an armchair, reading through one Alfendi’s many newspaper articles. Scattered throughout the room, all of them were about various cases, and she had some enjoyment trying to pick who the culprit was. Most already had messy notes scrawled down the side, with whole sections of the article crossed out with the word ‘WRONG’ written beneath it. Others had percentages written at the bottom, which she assumed referred to how certain he was of his deductions.

It still astounded her that he could figure so much out with so little information.

Just being in his flat made the day’s anxiety lessen. It wasn’t often that they had such a stressful case, but when they did they found that going to their separate homes gave little comfort.

She looked up as Alfendi entered, noting how much cleaner he looked. “There, ‘at’s better,” she told him, smiling. “You look a bit more relaxed now.”

She found herself giggling a little when she noticed his hair. Where it usually stuck up at odd angles, it was now a little straighter, and she imagined very soft too.

Alfendi frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Your ‘air, I’ve never seen it so flat in my life,” she admitted. She rose from her seat, running a hand through it. She felt her grin widen.

His arms encircled her gently, and he chuckled. “Well, is it a good thing or a bad thing?”

Lucy pretended to consider the question, but it was just an excuse to allow her fingers to sink into it a little more. It was a nice feeling. “Good,” she replied. “Mos’ definitely good.”

She watched as he smiled, and it felt different to the one he used in the Mystery Room when they found a clue or wrapped up a case. It was the smile set aside for  _her_. “I’m glad.”

Their faces were close now, his lips hovering carefully over hers.  They found themselves kissing, drawing a little closer to each other as Alfendi’s arms tightened slightly.  The gentleness of the act made her cheeks tinge a little.

It was always like this; relaxed, slow and without worry. There was only them, and whatever had been on their minds seemed to evaporate.

Gentle hands found their way to her waist, with one slowly trailing up her back. It was like electricity against her skin, and she couldn’t help but smile.

Then, things seemed to change. As she was gradually unbuttoning his shirt, he held on to her that slightest bit tighter, his lips becoming a little more forceful, but not to the point of being unwelcoming. She gasped. It was unexpected, but quite enjoying this new feeling she finished what she was doing. Casting her eyes back up at him, she had to stifle her shock.

Instead of his soft gaze, she was met with lust filled eyes that did not belong to the Alfendi Layton she knew and loved.

"Unph!” Her shock was muffled by his mouth. She eventually managed to step away, taking a few steps backwards.

She supposed the notion of not wanting to kiss him now was silly, since he was technically the same person, but she couldn’t bring herself to continue. It felt like cheating on Alfendi Layton with… well, Alfendi Layton.

“…Evenin’, Potty Prof,” she said, her arms crossing as though he’d just interrupted something. Her cheeks burned, but for an entirely different reason now.

The other’s smile widened. “And good evening to you, Baker.”

They stared at each other for a while, Lucy taking in his appearance. Back was the reddish hair, the cocky smirk, all the features that Alfendi had not demonstrated in so long. She tried to form some words, but had no clue what to say.

Did Potty know he’d been gone for a year? Was time something he kept track of, even when he wasn’t in control? Why had he suddenly showed up at this very moment?

Finally, she managed to construct a coherent sentence. “Any chance the real Alfendi will be popping back soon?”

It was the wrong thing to say. She watched as his face twisted in annoyance – and quite possibly some hurt – before eventually growing calmer, though his other side did not return. He leant against the doorframe, his eyes on her as he sighed. “ _The real Alfendi_ ,” he echoed. “That’s your little nickname for my other side, is it?”

She didn’t respond. It’d been so long since she’d had to deal with him, and she was a little hazy on how. It’d been natural before, but she hardly wanted to do the wrong thing.

“Funny,” he commented, “anybody with half a brain would think that  _I_  was the real Alfendi, given that I was here first.”

Her frown deepened. “Aye, I don’t like what you’re insinuating about me there, Potty Prof. You know that’s not fair to ‘im anyway, it’s not as though ‘e asked for any of this to happen.” Her eyes stared at him curiously, her head tilting to the side. “‘Sides, what’s brought this on? You go for a year and then suddenly show up? Last I ‘eard, you were alright wiv what’d ‘appended.”

His expression darkened, reminding Lucy of when the sea suddenly changed. It shifted from cautious yet calm waves to dangerous currents that she could easily get swept up and lost in. “Don’t put words in my mouth I never said, Baker,” he threatened. “You won’t like the result.”

“Then what’s got you so hot-headed?” She felt her confidence slowly creeping back, and found with some relief that she did not fear him.

It was only a few seconds of silence, but it felt like much longer. “That fact that I’m a prisoner in my own body, held captive by a cheap psychological trick,” he murmured. “The fact that I’m only called when my Placid side hasn’t the courage to think like a criminal, even when his instincts  _scream_  to. The fact that I can’t do something like this,” he reached forward, grabbing her by the waist, and in a swift move pulled her forward to place a firm kiss to her lips, “without first fighting through restraints.”

She tried to squirm out of his grasp, though her heart beat fast. She couldn’t lie to herself; there was something she’d always loved about Potty Prof, and had missed him when he was gone. She’d fallen in love with both sides of Alfendi Layton, and this one had overdue appreciation that was coming back in a rush.

The part of her that struggled only did so because that was what she was supposed to do, wasn’t it? Wouldn’t it be wrong to just accept such advances?

For once, she kind of wanted to be wrong. She couldn’t help but notice just how nice it felt to be pushed against his body. The Placid side would never dare, but Potty was something else.

“No,” she heard him mutter quietly, almost as though he didn’t intend her to notice. “None of this is fair.”

His head dropped down, meeting her eyes. “How about we begin where we left off last, then?” he suggested, his voice dark and cold and so, so beautiful. He trapped her between the door and his body, though his some form of gentleness she could appreciate, his hands holding her face.

And not surprisingly, Lucy found herself being kissed. She was more shocked to find that she was kissing him back, her fingers entwining in his hair and pulling him towards her, wanting to be close. She could feel his smile at the act as his lips trailed from hers down to her neck, making her want him all that more.

“A-Alfendi,” she whispered, relishing the feeling.

After hearing that word, he ceased, his eyes meeting hers. Bringing his face close, he pulled her in to a deep kiss, not quite as urgent as the others, and she could do nothing but close her eyes.

“That’s right,” he breathed. “I am.”


	5. I'm sorry

Lucy felt strange waking up the next morning.

Her body felt much lighter and relaxed than it usually did, and somehow she felt as though it had been the best sleep she’d had in such a long time. Instead of waking up groggy and disorientated, she felt somewhat refreshed.

She moved about a little, but felt loose arms around her, causing her to pause.

She didn’t want to wake Alfendi. He was a man who worked much harder than he needed to, and any amount of rest he received was a God send. It was actually somewhat surprising, finding him there still. Usually he was up and about much earlier; apparently sleep wasn’t a very high priority for him. Lucy had never understood.

Still, she tried to untangle herself from the blankets just a little, remembering the night before in her slightly fuzzy mind.

A small smile crossed her lips before it seemed to flicker. No, something was wrong. Though she was mostly happy, there was something off about the situation that was making her stomach twist and turn.

It hit her far too hard when she remembered what it was.

It hadn’t been Alfendi.

Though, it had, hadn’t it?

No. She couldn’t think that way; just because it had been the same body, it had been an entirely different aspect of his mind. A part of him that had been hidden away for a whole year; what a strange way to suddenly show up again. Guilt crept through her. It had practically been another person.

She had cheated on Alfendi Layton with Alfendi Layton.

Groaning, she slowly turned her head to get a better look at his face. It was tricky to tell just which side it was now; then again, he was asleep. There probably wasn’t actually a side present at all. His face was peaceful, but his hair messy… but she supposed that was the normality after what had happened the night before.

Lucy closed her eyes for a little while longer, trying to appreciate the warmth to just forget about everything else. Still, the assortment of thoughts in her mind kept her alert, and she eventually slipped out of his hold and into another room, quickly finding her previously hastily discarded clothes.

Entering the kitchen, she felt her stomach rumble; food sounded like a good idea. At the same time, she didn’t think she had the motivation to make anything.

Taking a seat at the small but messy table, she groaned again, the true implications of what she’d done sinking in.

“Dammit, Lucy, why?” she muttered, head in hands. “How could you…”

She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or simply sit in silence. She wasn’t exactly sure how she was supposed to feel after what had happened, but still hated herself for not entirely regretting it.

After all, she’d never had anything against Potty Prof. In fact, she’d grown to like him, and the fact that his appearances had stopped soon after his Placid side asked her out had always hung in the back of her mind, nagging her every so often. She’d always thought of it as his silent protest to the situation, that it was her fault.

But seeing him again, it didn’t seem the case. There had been something else that had lead to Potty’s absence, so maybe there was just pure relief that her fears were unfounded.

Sometime later, a shuffling sound was heard, and Lucy tensed. She honestly did not know which side of him she wanted to see least, but she childishly wanted to delay the meeting as long as impossible. It took all of her strength not to high tail out of there that very second, and she stayed only because if it  _was_  Potty, she couldn’t imagine he’d be very happy about it.

Peeking through her fingers, she looked up to find the steady eyes of Placid Prof staring back at her.

“Argh. I’m so sorry.”

Alfendi took the seat opposite her, remaining silent as he put a hand on his forehead. A very small smile crossed his face. “I haven’t had one of these headaches in a long time,” he murmured. “Maybe I’d just forgotten how bad they were, but this one feels a lot worse. I guess I was wrong to underestimate my other side; there was no way his disappearance was normal.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The response was immediate, and she felt his gentle hand take hers. “If we were any other two people, then you might have a reason to be,” Alfendi continued. “But I think we can both agree that when we entered this relationship, we anticipated his… interference.” He sighed softly, frowning. “It just took him a lot longer than I would have thought.”

“It doesn’t make it right, though,” she protested. “I… shouldn’t have…”

“ _I_  shouldn’t have put you into a situation in which you were uninformed about my suspicions in the first place.”

Lucy looked up at him with curious eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry. Yesterday, when I solved the case, when I disarmed that man… it wasn’t me. I don’t think so, at least. I just phased out for a moment, and then when I came back to reality, things had already happened. My other side didn’t make an appearance as such, but somebody was controlling me like a puppet, and I should have known it was him. Adrenaline doesn’t work in that way.”

“But neither does he, you couldn’t have known!” she exclaimed, rising. “I mean, you didn’t actually turn into Potty Prof, you looked just like yourself. The deductions, the fighting… it was you, Prof.”

“You make me feel so… unwanted.”

Out of instinct, she took a step back upon hearing his changed voice, pulling her hand away. She watched in a mix of annoyance and fascination as Alfendi flicked his head, his hair becoming dishevelled. “Can’t you give me a little credit for saving your miserable life yesterday? It’s not like the other side could have.”

“You have a habit of interrupting, Potty Prof.”

His smile widened. “And you, a habit of not accepting the truth, even when it’s in front of you. I thought you’d have learned better in our time together.”

She huffed. “It’s not like you’ve been around anyway.”

He tapped his nose. “Not everything is as it seems, Baker,” he reminded her. “Just because neither you nor my other side had seen me, it doesn’t mean I’d ceased to exist. He’s not the only one who can put up mental restraints on things he’d rather block out.”

Leaning back in his chair, Alfendi chuckled. “To think; he’s handed control of my body on a silver platter, yet I’ve managed to thwart him; he’d be a sad sight indeed.”

In that moment, Lucy felt as though she’d bore witness to the beginning of a battle – no, a war – in which there were only two soldiers and one cause.

That of course meant there would only be one victor, and looking at the determined and confident Alfendi in front of her, she didn’t feel it were possible for it to be another.


	6. Just let me say goodbye

The next week flew past in a blur of mistakes and slip ups, headaches and being told to go home at least twice a day by those working at Scotland Yard because he just wasn’t right.

Alfendi could do nothing, it seemed, without his other side ruining it. He’d be walking and suddenly he’d stumble, needing to grab on to the nearest person for support, which usually resulted awkwardly. He’d be in the middle of an interrogation only to find that the words wouldn’t come out correctly, and if that in itself wasn’t bad enough, the pained look he saw on Lucy’s face was. He might be doing something as simple as picking up a case file, but it would slip through his fingers, the contents being strewn on the floor.

And he couldn’t even help Lucy pick them up without making matters worse.

Then there was the ever-persistent headache that never seemed to fade, so much more painful than how he remembered it from the past. In the rare times his other side wasn’t bothering him, the headache was there, and it rendered him about as useful as a pigeon.

At the end of another day full of mishaps, when Lucy had ‘gone out’ though he  _knew_  she was interrogating the culprit with Sniffer instead, he found himself alone in the Mystery Room. He could barely keep his eyes open; while he didn’t usually get a lot anyway, sleep had also been pushed aside.

Yet, something within him stirred. It wasn’t his other side, but a feeling of pure truth. This couldn’t continue.

Having conversations with himself wasn’t nearly as easy as people believed. He actually preferred that it wasn’t an option, because having constant insults thrown at him wouldn’t make daily life pleasant. Taking a piece of paper and pen in his hands, he wrote down a very simple message before unwillingly pulling down the last of his frail restraints.

_What do you want?_

He was only slightly aware of the chuckle that escaped his lips afterwards, as well as the sound of the pen on the paper. His mind buzzing, he felt himself writing just before he resumed control. Scanning the words, it was as he’d predicted.

_You know exactly what I want._

_Of course I do,_  he wrote back,  _but the better question is why._

This time, he didn’t have to let go of himself to be thrust aside. His body involuntarily leapt to its feet unsteadily. “ _Why_? Are you seriously going to ask me  _why_?!” he shouted. “Is your intellect too puny to understand that you’re an intruder here? I’m reclaiming what’s rightfully mine!”

“It’s not my fault this happened.”

He only just managed to say the words before he found himself laughing again, the same laugh that fell from his lips in the face of a criminal.

“Oh, well that makes everything better then, doesn’t it?” he sneered back. “Say there’s a man who takes something from one and gives it to another. The man is punished for doing so, but does it mean the said something is allowed to remain with its second owner? Preposterous. It would be returned, and if the second owner had any decency, they’d allow it. The first owner can hardly be blamed for taking back what’s theirs… no matter how.”

“It doesn’t mean the other deserves to be punished.”

“They should just be grateful for the amount of use they got out of the object in the first place,” he heard his other side snap through his hazy mind. “You’ve had this body for five years when you shouldn’t exist at all. It’s taken me far too long, but today…  _today_ , things go back the way they should be.”

Alfendi found himself slumping back into the chair, his head splitting.  This was why he’d wanted to exchange notes. “What about Lucy?” he mumbled, his lips heavy. He wasn’t sure what made him say it, but it was something he was curious to know.

Alfendi’s hand moved without his own accord, and upon feeling it stop he was glad to find that there was a message written on the paper.

_What about her?_

“I… can’t leave her on her own, not like this.”

The next reply took longer.  _You don’t think I’m capable of looking after her? You think you’re the only one who feels the way you do?_

Alfendi didn’t find the confession as surprising as he could have. In a strange way, it filled him with some relief; if his other side could help her like he already had when she was close to being hurt before, while he himself was useless, then…

“Just let me say goodbye,” he muttered.

He only just managed to read the scrawled reply.

_Fine, only a little longer. You know I’ll win, so don’t press your luck_

It was the one word at the very end of the sentence that circled around in his mind.

_ PARASITE _ _._


	7. You can't leave

He faded in and out of consciousness a few times, the sleep deprivation well and truly taking its toll, before Lucy finally returned. He smiled when she entered, quickly crumpling the piece of paper that the notes had been written on before throwing it into the bin; she didn’t need to know about it. Alfendi drew in a sharp breath when his head throbbed, his hand drawing up instinctively as his eyes closed. He didn’t have much time.

There wasn’t a lot Lucy could do; the pain he was experiencing was internal. Still, she didn’t like to do nothing, so immediately began preparing him a cup of tea, hoping it might make him feel a little better. Sliding it over, he gave her a nod of acknowledgment, not having the strength to speak. He downed it in a matter of seconds, it being no more than a little distraction to bear through it.

Ten minutes passed in silence before he finally spoke. “What were the results of the interrogation?” he asked, trying to sound light-hearted.

“’e confessed eventually; it was the glass shards that got ‘im, as you thought. We made it into a file for you.” She looked slightly guilty that he’d known.

Alfendi harboured no ill-feelings towards her. She’d probably hoped he’d get some rest in the meantime, though he’d done anything but.

“Good work. Where is it?”

"In front of you, Prof,” Lucy replied, her voice gentle.

He looked onto his desk, the sight of the manila folder sending a surge of frustration through him. That wasn’t fair, it was so obvious!

“Prof, are you…?”

“I’m fine. Fine fine fine fine fine,” he muttered, a hand running through his hair. He knew he wasn’t, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer. That meant he’d have to tell her now.

Standing, he only took one step towards her before his body violently jerked – and somehow he didn’t believe it was due to his other side, but pure exhaustion – making him lose his footing. He reached out to grab hold of something, but there was only a chair that ended up tumbling down with him.

And so he found himself on the Mystery Room floor with no motivation to get up, his sides protesting to the arrangement with anguish.

“Al!” Watching as Lucy shoved the chair away and knelt to his side, trying to sit him upright, he sighed.

He was just a burden these days.

Alfendi felt as though it were well and truly the end. Her concerned eyes were on him, and she leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. “Alfendi,” she murmured, allowing his head to rest against her. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t do this. I… need to go.” He’d said it.

"Yes, you can, and you’re nawt going anywhere.” Her voice was definite.

“I can’t.” His was a broken whisper. “I… I can’t, Lucy. I’m not saying it to hear you tell me I can; it’s the truth.”

The pounding of his head was growing louder and louder by the second, and he winced slightly. “And even if I could continue, what sort of life is this?” he asked. “Struggling to do the easiest of tasks, constantly with this headache pain… it’s useless. It’s exhausting and what good is it?” He was slumped further on her this time. “If holding him back was hard a year ago, it’s worse now; I don’t have the restraints I used to. He’s found the weaknesses and worked his way in; I can’t fix anything.”

“Prof, please,” Lucy whispered. She shook him just a little, swallowing shakily. “You’re… you’re not feeling well now and it’s made ya i-irrational; ya can’t just give up. You’ll feel better tom-“

“I don’t  _deserve_  to feel better!” he cut in. Panic sliced through anything else he was feeling in that instant. “I’m just using a body that’s not mine! I’m… a parasite. Yes, that’s the word I’ve been looking for this entire time.” He sat up a little, staring at her directly as the smallest of laughs escaped. “I’m the result of a psychological failure; I don’t belong in this body. It’s not mine. It’s his, and… I can’t keep it.”

It hurt, knowing the truth that lay behind his words. He’d known for a long time, really, but admitting it was the hardest.  Glancing at his trembling hands for only a moment, he tore his gaze from them and looked back at her.

Alfendi’s heart sunk to see her eyes filling with tears. His own arms wrapping around her, he pulled her close. “I’m sorry. It’s all… I’m not strong enough, but that’s a good thing. I wasn’t meant to be, not for this long. Five years was amazing in itself.”

“You can’t leave.”

Hearing her broken voice made him glad that it wasn’t his decision.

“You’ll be okay without me,” he murmured, eyes closing. He could feel himself slipping. “If I d-didn’t have confidence in that fact, th-then…”

He was never able to finish that sentence, his body relaxing, and as Lucy’s lips began to quiver as they tried to form his name, she was cut off by the sight of quickly reddening hair.


	8. Correct

“And you’re certain about what you’re saying?”

Lucy nodded wordlessly, unable to meet the steady eyes of the Commissioner as she shifted slightly in her seat. She didn’t want to be there; she wanted to be at home where she could hang on to the last fragments of her Alfendi memories before they disappeared or twisted altogether into something different.

Deciding to tell somebody what happened had been one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do, but she knew it was necessary. She couldn’t just let it all go unspoken and expect people to accept the change. Lucy had eventually chosen the Commissioner, being that he genuinely needed to know and that he’d say only the things that needed to be said.

That would be enough for now.

“Where is he currently?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” she replied honestly. “‘E was unconscious for a while last night, and I was almost going to call an ambulance. But then, he just woke up… Potty Prof I mean.” She stopped twisting her hands, finally looking up. “He seemed confused a’ first, but then he just smiled and left, like nothing had happened.”

The Commissioner laughed slightly. “Oh? That does sound like him.” He looked out the window, considering the events. “He’ll likely be coming in today. There wasn’t a time he missed out on potentially having a case and a homicide’s been handed to the two of you.”

“…Thanks,” Lucy replied as she took the case file in her hands, feeling as though it were bait to lure him out. She rose from her seat. “I’ll be off, then. I’ll keep you updated if anythin’ happens.”

She reached the door before he spoke. “DC Baker?” There was a slight pause. “I’m sorry. I’m certain this is hard on you.”

Lucy nodded, leaving just as she saw him pick up the phone.

She passed Dustin on her way to the Mystery Room, who had been standing close enough to the Commissioner’s office to look suspicious, giving her a sad smile. She remembered his habit of eavesdropping while on duty and knew that it wouldn’t be long before she’d see Sniffer and Florence give her the exact same look. That thought made her hurry. She didn’t feel much like being pitied.

After all, she didn’t deserve it. The half of Alfendi that had suddenly disappeared did.

Reaching the door, her hand only touched the knob briefly before she hesitated. She could hear sounds coming from inside, and that told her one thing; he’d already arrived.

And when she was met with his presence, she couldn’t help but stare.

Gone was the lab coat and loose shirt that she’d grown so used to seeing, replaced by the grey suit jacket she recognised from old photographs. It gave him a refined appearance, though she noted his hair was still messy, making an odd contrast that matched him in some way. Meeting her eyes as he glanced up at her, he nodded.

“Morning, Baker.”

“Mornin’,” she replied, not wanting to sound rude or particularly enthusiastic either.

She watched as his grin widened, his gaze falling on the file. “Is that a case? Let’s hope it’s an interesting one, it’s been a while.”

Lucy crossed the room, extending it towards him. “A homicide, ‘ccording to the Commissioner.”

His eyes lit up. “Fantastic, I’m itching to get out of here.” Taking it from her, he examined the contents with sweeping eyes, the fluidity of the act somewhat mesmerising to her. Despite being absent for so long, it had not hindered his abilities an inch; he knew what he was doing without a second thought. No wonder he’d always been hailed a genius.

It halted, however, when he came to the little microchip.

“For the crime scene reconstruction device,” Lucy explained. It suddenly occurred to her that it was the first time he’d really been present when using it.

Alfendi pressed his lips together as he pushed his hair away from his eyes. “And here I was, expecting us to actually investigate. Fine, let’s see if it is as dull interacting with this machine as it is watching it from the sidelines.”

As the crime scene came to life before them, Lucy stared at him, wondering how he’d manage it. He was looking, but seemed uninterested as he took a seat, as though he’d already worked out the culprit from the case file. His fingers drummed against the chair impatiently.

It sent a pang of sadness through her; that wasn’t the Prof she knew and loved.

Moving around the location, making notes of various clues, she finally came to a conclusion. “It were the house keeper, weren’t it? That scrap of fabric at the scene is definitely the butler’s, but it’s in too plain sight to be accidental; it were planted in attempt to frame him, and she has access to all their clothing.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Plus, that alibi’s looking mighty fragile ta me.”

“Of  _course_  it was her,” Alfendi snapped. He quickly reached and turned off the machine, the scene fading before her eyes.

“H-Hey, we’re not done!” Lucy protested. “Jus’ cause it’s probably her, we need more evidence befo-“

“And you said the scrap of fabric was in plain sight?” he interrupted. “Of course it was; every piece of damned evidence is. Everything at the scene has been documented so thoroughly.” He leant back in his chair, heaving a sigh. “This isn’t investigating.”

“It is.”

“Baker, it takes away any challenge from the job. It should be used on rookies who don’t know what they’re doing, not  _us_. We’re better than this, being lead to all the right clues like children on a scavenger hunt.”

“You’ve never minded it before,” she said, finding that it was getting on her nerves. She tried to keep the hurt from her voice. “The fact it this machine exists meant we could ‘elp solve Chico’s case, remember?”

“I’ve never had to be the one trapped in this room, looking only at a screen!” he hissed. “And we’d have found another way to corner the culprit; there’s always more than one path to the criminal!”

“Okay! How about we cut straigh’ ta the interrogation then!” Her arms folded across her chest. “We’ll go in wiv no evidence, but since it’s so  _obviously_  the house keeper, we’ll be fine!”

“I didn’t say we wouldn’t investigate more before bringing her in.” His voice had lowered by that point. “Only that this takes away the challenge, the  _thrill_ , of it all.” He closed his eyes for a second, perhaps in effort to calm himself down, before opening them to stare directly at her. “Tell me, Baker… what do you enjoy more? Interrogations or investigations?”

The question surprised her. “Well… finally cornering the culprit is always nice, when we really show ‘em all the evidence.”

His mouth turned upwards. “That’s true, yet I find both to be exhilarating, and you  _know_ how I feel about criminals.  _You_ like interrogations more because they’re authentic; it’s a real being in front of you, not something that’s been recreated and turned into pixels. Think of the times you’ve had a case outside this room. You can’t  _possibly_  tell me they weren’t more satisfying to solve.”

Remembering how it felt to point out the broken ivy along Forbodium Castle’s outside walls, how she hadn’t been restricted by computer data, made Lucy pause. He was right; that had been good. That had been wonderful, in fact.  She loved the Mystery Room dearly, but there were some things it could never replicate. She recalled feeling along the bookshelf with her fingers, holding the cups in her hands, actually  _interacting_ with the environment in order to create another path when they were trying to find Mariana, or rather, Diane. That would never be possible in the Mystery Room.

She saw his smug smile and hated that he’d been so correct. She felt as though she’d betrayed everything her and the Prof –  _her_  Prof – had achieved together.

“But, I suppose there’s no point in visiting the scene now, if it’s here.” Rising, Alfendi turned the machine back on, zooming in to focus on the body. “We’ll grab some evidence and then call in the house keeper; I look forward to it.”

For the first time in her career, Lucy did not.


	9. He's not coming back

There were certain aspects of Potty Prof’s return that Lucy had to adjust to.

For one, it meant that Alfendi was not always in the Mystery Room during working hours, a development that was foreign to her. He often left at random times, claiming he needed to go somewhere, and Lucy knew better than to ask where or why. Interrogations took that little bit longer than they used to, and she knew he was savouring what it felt like to be in the presence of a criminal for more than a few minutes. Once he’d had his fun, the case was wrapped up quicker than she’d thought possible, but was impressed by her own ability to keep up with his speedy mind.

Another was that investigations were beginning to take place more outside the Mystery Room than in it. This was something that she couldn’t decide whether or not she preferred; there was a thrill about it, certainly, but it was tiring, and there were some things she’d been faced with that had made her skin crawl.

Everything became real, and that included his permanent presence.

Though, Lucy would never accept that. Acceptance in itself was like disregarding another Alfendi that had existed, and she knew deep down that she’d never let that happen. To her, he’d always be the first Prof, and just as genuine as the other.

That denying mindset had come into play as she was writing up the report for a newly finished case.

There was one last development that she’d had yet to adjust to – and didn’t know if she ever could – and it was the constant smell of cigarettes in the office.

Potty was a smoker, and that didn’t sit well with her for more than one reason. The first was that, no matter what he said, it wasn’t just his body. Placid didn’t do it for a reason, so it didn’t seem fair for Potty to go ahead regardless of his counterpart.

The second was her own health. Her asthma had been particularly bad in her childhood, and while it’d slowly faded out in the past years, her lungs didn’t take kindly to smoke of any kind. Being placed amidst it all was making it increasingly difficult for her to keep her concentration.

“Could ya maybe stop that? Just for a bit?” She finally asked, feeling well and truly sick.

He looked up. “Stop what?”

“The smokin’, Prof, it’s suffocating in here.”

He scoffed. “I never said you had to stay, did I?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she muttered, “I’m so close to finishing.” She tried to look back at what she was doing, but even reading was becoming hard. She desperately wanted to breathe, but not this air. “Can you at least open a window?”

“It’s freezing outside. It’d create a lovely little murder scene, both of us turned into icicles.” His lips turned upwards at the thought.

Her temper was beginning to flare. If it wasn’t enough that she’d been forced into the situation in the first place, now he wasn’t even going to act sorry? “Well, if you’re cold, you can pu’ on a jacket! How about a nice, white coat?” she snapped.

As he looked up at her, something unreadable in his expression, she persisted. “I mean, it’s not that hard, is it? You may think ‘e’s an inconvenience, but your other side is a whole lot nicer to deal with! He’d ‘ave asked if it were okay to smoke in here first, or just done it outside! God, he’d at least have opened a window!”

His gaze remained on her, and she didn’t back down. She couldn’t, not then. It was only when she’d erupted into a coughing fit that he sighed, putting out his cigarette.

“He’s not coming back, Baker,” he informed her. His voice wasn’t cruel, nor sympathetic; only factual. “You can say whatever you like about me, but it won’t change that. Even if I  _wanted_  him back, he’s nowhere to be found; there’s only me in my head, as it’s supposed it be.”

Her lip began to quiver. Surely not?

“So honestly, it would be best for us both if you accepted it. I’m not him, but I  _know_  you don’t hate me for that; I  _can’t_  be like him. I also know that you do like me, and the only thing that’s stopping you from moving on is that you think I’m holding him back from some perfect fairytale ending with you.” His lips pursed, and he still kept his eyes on her. “But I’m not. I made him leave, yes, but there’s  _nothing_  I could do to bring him back.”

It was beginning to get hard to see now. Even though the smoke was lifting, her eyes were tearing up. “He’s not gone.”

“Believe what you will, but it won’t get you anywhere, Baker. You’re better than this. If this… arrangement, is going to work,” and she received the impression he meant more than just their working relationship, “there are some things that-“

But she wouldn’t hear those words again. She wouldn’t be told that she needed to accept it, to move on, so Lucy left right then and there.

 


	10. Grieving

She was still shaking, even when she’d gotten far from the Mystery Room and the stabbing words that she could no longer hear. They still tumbled around in her head over and over regardless, and it only made her quicken her pace. But it didn’t matter if she was at the other end of Scotland Yard; she couldn’t escape everything, and it was foolish to try.

With a start, Lucy discovered she’d reached the Forensic Department. It was an unfamiliar section of the building to her, and she timidly looked around, not entirely sure how to get out.

“Oh - achoo! - it’s you, Luce.”

She turned her head to meet the interested gaze of Florence Sich, giving her a smile. “Hi, Flo. Sorry, I think I migh’ have taken a wrong turn, could you tell me how to-“

She was interrupted before she could finish. “I think you’d appreciate - achoo! - a moment or two to sort yourself out before you headed back.”

Her tone was soft enough for Lucy to become self-conscious. Looking at herself in the reflection of the window opposite, she was suddenly glad she’d passed nobody else on her journey. Her hair was out of place, her eyes puffy; had she been crying? She couldn’t even remember.

Looking back at the scientist, she nodded, but as she tried to say something she found her voice didn’t want to work.

Florence wheeled herself over to a door, holding it open so Lucy could step inside. The second it shut behind her, her face crumpled with the weight of the past few weeks and she could only let out a sob. Leaning against the closed door, she shut her eyes tight.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder. “Al?”

“I m-miss ‘im so much, Flo,” Lucy choked. “It’s not right, him being gone. An’ I keep on waiting for him to come back, but ‘e hasn’t.”

She didn’t care what anybody said. A year of dating to some would be laughable, but she’d well and truly fallen in love with the Prof and it had felt like she’d lost part of herself. But he wasn’t entirely gone; his body was still there, just being used by another, so that meant he could return, right?

To her surprise, she was pulled into a small embrace. “It’s understandable - achoo! - for you to be upset.”

“A-And… Potty’s no’ him. I feel like everybody thinks that, but it’s not true.” She was trembling again.

“Of course not; the Al you know would never threaten to steal my medication.”

Lucy giggled. “No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be able to pull ‘imself away from the office long enough anyhow.”

As Florence let go, she became aware of a dull ache deep in her chest. It’d been too long since she’d seen Alfendi, and happy thoughts of him were merely bittersweet.

“I can’t suddenly - achoo! - fix everything, Luce,” Florence began, “but I can give you the best advice I have. You’re expecting he’ll return?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t.”

That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. “What do you mean?! Don’t you want-“

Florence shook her head to stop her and gestured to her IV drip. “It’s not about want. You’ve got to separate what you’d like to – achoo! - happen and what you actually expect. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to live without this thing sticking in one of my veins, or - achoo! - walk on my own two feet. Who knows if I’ll ever be able to work as much as I do without taking a bowl of pills every morning?”

Her illness wasn’t something Florence spoke about often, so Lucy made sure to listen carefully. She noted the deep circles under her eyes that seemed permanent; though she was quiet, Florence was a fighter. She could reasonably choose to stop working, yet here she was.

“The best thing I can do for myself is expect that this is as good as it gets,” she continued. Tapping her IV drip, she smiled slightly. “And if I get worse, I’ll accept it a whole lot better… and if - achoo! - by some miracle I survive, it’ll be even better, won’t it?” She sighed gently. “But I don’t believe it’ll happen, not now. Like I said, it’s not about want.”

“So I need t-to…?”

Florence stayed quiet for a moment or two before she finally spoke up again. “You’ve been too optimistic, Lucy, and I know you don’t want to hear it.” The hand was again on her shoulder. “But you’ve got to approach it from a realistic angle, and accept that the worst case scenario may be the one you’re faced with. Al had his miracle in the five years - achoo! - he had with us. He’s not coming back. Alfendi Layton, the one you loved, is dead, and if you expect nothing more from a gone man, everything else will be easier. Not easy, but easier.”

In a twisted way, it made sense, but it would mean doing what everybody else wanted her to do; accept the situation. “I’m so scared,” she whispered. The tears and shaking were gone, leaving her only with an impending feeling of doom.

“Of what?”

“Forgetting. Forgetting him, because he’ll turn into Potty in m’ head.” She took in a shaky breath. “If I accept he’s gone… it means Potty’s alone. Only him.” How long would it take before she grew used to every change the other man brought? How long before she grew to like him - and it was a terrifying thought - as much as the other?

“Expect the worse, Luce. If you forget all but a slither of his voice, you’ll treasure it.”

And that’s when it truly hit her, because she knew she’d deluded herself the entire time. In her mind, Potty had just pushed Placid away temporarily, like a bully in a school ground, but he’d come back eventually and they’d learn to live happily ever after, the three of them fighting crime both inside and outside the Mystery Room.

But what if he was genuinely gone, as Florence had said?

She wouldn’t hear his voice, she wouldn’t feel one of his hugs, she wouldn’t work with the Crime Reconstruction Device to the same capacity again. Timidness would be replaced by a fiery attitude, small smiles with smirks.

And surely,  _surely_  if he was going to return, he would have already. He would have stopped himself from smoking, or leaving the Mystery Room to go outside, or  _something_. But he hadn’t.

Alfendi Layton - the one she knew - wasn’t going to come back, because he was dead.


	11. The new case

She’d never have believed prior, but things became much easier for Lucy after that.

There was no longer the expectation of having the Placid Prof back whenever she opened the Mystery Room door, nor that once the current Alfendi had solved a case, he would slip away to be replaced by a much calmer man. The name ‘Alfendi’ in itself took on an entirely different meaning, and she managed to separate what had passed from the present.

She could only hope it would mean she wouldn’t forget.

It took a week before she began to talk to him properly, another two until she actually enjoyed their conversations. Then it took perhaps a month or so before she realised she looked forward to them. Things were shifting, not back to the way they were before, but she received a similar feeling of contentment.

It served as a reminder that it hadn’t only been the Placid side she’d loved to begin with. She still mourned the man she’d lost, but he wasn’t entirely gone and she tried to stifle her guilt for being grateful for Potty’s presence.

–

She awoke in the early hours of one morning to the shrill sound of the phone ringing. Groaning, feeling her head throb due to a lack of sleep, she cleared her throat a few times before she answered it. “’Ello?”

“Baker!”

She snapped to attention at the urgent voice. “Prof? What’s-“

“It’s finally happened, the Commissioner’s given us an exciting case,” he replied quickly, his voice ecstatic. That was a new one. “Pack a bag for one or two days, the train leaves in an hour.”

“Eh?” She shook her head, trying to push away the fog from her mind. “I don’t-“

“It’s a violent homicide, triple; took place in a quaint village out in the country. It takes a few hours at least to get there.”

Getting up, and immediately wanting to crawl back into her bed given the cold weather, she sighed. It was days like this she wished they still worked from the office. “Well, it won’t be very quaint by the time we arrive, I imagine.”

He chuckled. “Certainly not. It’s only a small place and everybody knows each other, so they’re all suspects. We’ve got our work cut out for us, and I can’t wait. I have your ticket with me, I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.”

“Thirty?! Now wait jus’ a mome-“

It was too late, the line went dead.

Groaning again, she pulled her blanket around her and began preparations, making a hasty breakfast and throwing whatever seemed like a good idea into her bag, which she ended up packing multiple times due to not knowing what they were up against.She only just managed to run a comb through her hair before there was a knock at the door.

Muttering under her breath, as she was certain it hadn’t been half an hour, she gathered her things, cramming her hat over her head to disguise her still-present bed hair. She opened the door, shivering as the cold crept in.

Alfendi was looking very pleased, as though the universe had handed him some great and marvellous gift. She supposed that, to him, it was exactly what had happened.

“Mornin’,” she said, unable to stifle her yawn.

He smiled back. “Be thankful we have an entire train journey for you to wake up. In this state, you wouldn’t even be able to point out the corpses.”

“If you’d waited an hour or so more, Prof, I’d be a whole lot more lively than this,” she responded. Looking behind him, she hated that it was still dark. It wasn’t natural to be up at this hour. “How are you so awake, anyhow?”

“I haven’t even slept. I had a feeling something better was going to happen, and obviously I was right.”

She scoffed as they descended the stairs of her apartment building, the air still biting at her. “That’s hardly fair!”

“It takes years of bodily protest to get right, but I managed. As a result, I am definitely ready to take on this murder.”

“I bet.” When would he not be, after all? Somebody could call him up on his death bed and he’d still insist on catching one last criminal.

When they pulled up to the station, she’d cursed his car for having comfortable seats as she’d felt herself dozing off. Glad that the Commissioner had picked the first available train, which was the furthest thing from the Molentary Express possible, she felt herself waking up and decided to snap into action.

“You should fill me in with what you know,” she suggested.

“Excellent idea.” Without even opening the case file, he began reciting the facts. “While the victims were acquainted, they didn’t know each other well enough to be considered friends. The only thing it’s believed they had in common was that during last night, they were each out and about in the village, late night errands to run and such. There’s no evidence to say they ever spoke to one another during this time, which suggests… well, what do  _you_  think it suggests? There’s nothing better than a surprise quiz to get your brain working.”

Considering it, she could only arrive to one conclusion. “Sounds a lot like it were killings on whim, Prof.”

“Precisely.” His lip curled upwards. “Even if the three victims had an enemy in common, being killed all in the same night though it seemed they weren’t doing anything together? No. A fourth person was out last night, one who felt like creating some bloodshed.”

“That’s ‘orrible, it is.”

“Which is why you need to be awake and alert to solve this case, isn’t it?”

“You said it were violent.”

“And it was; all three victims have been killed in very,  _very_  creative ways. It’s not just their blood that’s been splattered around; almost everything else as well. Well, for two of them, anyway. The third’s a little neater.”

She shook her head. “Well, wasn’t that nice of 'em?”

Crime didn’t usually occupy her thoughts, but during that train ride it was all she could think about. There was something niggling at her in the pit of her stomach that told her she was overlooking an aspect of this whole affair.

_But I’m not. I’ve seen nasty deaths before; the copy-cat Jigsaw Puzzle Killings were bad, and Diane Makepeace’s death weren’t very nice either. There’s no reason to be this… jumpy._

Yet, as soon as she stepped foot off the train, the sun just creeping into the sky and the scent of blood hitting her hard, she knew that she’d never actually been faced with anything like this.

But now that she was there, there was no turning back. A hand over her mouth slightly, she dared to look forward into the village square as they headed towards it, not prepared for the sight.

There were two masses of flesh, torn, shredded, pulled apart in whatever way possible, remaining on the stained cobblestone ground. It was ghastly enough to look at, but it was only when she saw part of a bone in one and the tangled mess of hair on the other that it really registered for her that she was staring at what once had been two living, breathing human beings.

She stopped walking.

Alfendi got one or two steps ahead before he turned back. His face was less impatient that she’d expected, though she didn’t dare to believe it was concern he was displaying. “Lucy?”

“S-Sorry,” she muttered, forcing herself to continue. She pulled her gaze from the two bodies and tried to distract herself, but the next thing she saw was no better. The third and final body, described as a little neater, was only more terrifying than the first ones. It hung by the collar of its shirt atop the church steeple, swinging gently in the breeze.

The only way in which it rang true to the description was that it was still distinctly human looking, not demoted to a mass of organs. She could see how the eyes were pinned open wide to give a look of shock while pulled from their sockets a little, just enough for her to notice. The body looked as though it had been compressed, the arms and legs bending at widely characteristic angles. The tongue lolled out of the mouth longer than it should have, as though it had been stretched out for the sake of it, and their hair stood up straight, rigid rather than soft.

Then there was the pool of blood that had dripped down off it.

Lucy swallowed quickly, trying to contain her trembling.

She’d never even seen anything like it, not even in a reconstruction; nothing could possibly compare. Some previous crime scenes had been bad, certainly, but they’d lacked the weight of being real. Though they’d always been genuine events at some place, she’d never had to witness them with her own eyes directly. It had always been… easy.

But this? She wasn’t prepared for this.

Dragging her feet along, Lucy didn’t dare to look anywhere properly in fear of finding yet another nasty surprise. All she did catch sight of were pale faces that looked for a second out of their blood-splattered windows before retreating back into the darkness. It would be a long time before life in the village would continue normally, she decided.

She turned back to the Prof, who gave her a delighted smile. “Ready?” The scene had left largely different impacts on the two.

Still feeling her stomach churning uncomfortably, Lucy again tried to swallow. She didn’t want to do this, to go through the remains of a body like it was nothing as Alfendi would expect, to pretend it was just another piece of evidence. But thinking of the tear-streaked faces she’d seen, how they probably feared that the corpses out there could be another person they knew if the killer was not caught soon, she knew she needed to. For them, she’d put on her strongest facade and do it.

Breathing in, she finally looked at him properly. “A-Aye. We’ve got a murderer to catch.”


	12. Every care in the world

By the end of the day, they hadn’t made many certain deductions, but Alfendi was enjoying the thrill too much to care about that. He’d catch his criminal in the end, he was certain, and he was interested to see if they’d make themselves known at all beforehand. For now, the crime scene was a good enough indication of what lay in their mind. It was twisted, despicable on all different levels, and it only made him savour every second.

Examining the two bodies that were only a tangled mess told them nothing; a specific cause of death couldn’t be pinpointed on looks alone. That left the body that was hanging high above them. After it was finally brought down, the lifeless face now close up to them, he saw Lucy flinch.

He knew that this body would be the best piece of evidence they’d have. It was, for one, mostly intact, meaning they might be able to know the cause of death. There was a wound in their abdomen, only it didn’t look severe enough to kill. They sent a sample of all the victims’ blood back to Scotland Yard, but likely wouldn’t be receiving results until the next day due to the distance.

They’d also managed to interview half of the villagers, crossing off a few from the suspect list due to having air-tight alibis. Nobody stood out in particular yet. It was during those times Lucy had seemed most at ease.

“Here’s another surprise quiz,” he began as the day was wrapping up. They’d done the most they could for now, and though he was inching to stay, the reminder that the crime scene would still exist tomorrow made him tear himself from it. Surveying her as they walked away towards their accommodation, the scent of blood growing fainter, he smiled. “Why is the third body the way it is? Why is it  _different_?”

Lucy stayed silent for a moment or two, and he noticed a slight tremble in her hands. She’d been that way the majority of the investigation, far more subdued than usual. “Because the other two were an accident,” she finally replied. “Well, not that he didn’t mean to kill them, but he made mistakes. I bet the killer meant for all of them to end up like the third… or he just kept on tryin’ until he got it right.”

He felt himself grinning more widely. “Perfect.”

She suddenly came to a halt, staring at the ground. Wordlessly, she knelt down, taking something gently in her fingers. “Huh.”

“Hm?” He looked as she stood up, finding that it was the remains of some pencil shavings.

Continuing to examine them, she sighed. “You know, I’d say I were grasping at straws any other time, only the streets got cleaned yesterday evening. They must be left here from last night.”

“Or today,” he reminded her. “In this part of the village, nobody has been restricted in their movements. It’s too far from the scene.”

She shook her head, laughing slightly. It wasn’t one of happiness. “Have you  _seen_ anybody out and about? It’s been dead quiet. They’re too afraid to leave their houses.” She placed it in a plastic zip-lock bag, averting her eyes from him. “Anyway, it migh’ not be important, but if it is…”

Alfendi noted that her trembles stopped for just a moment as hope lit up her features, and he found himself longing for the tiny pieces of evidence to be what solved the case.

Checking into the inn, they first stopped off at Lucy’s room. By the time they were nearly there, her face had paled and her footsteps began to falter, just as they had when she’d first approached the scene.

“Lucy?”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice not as strong as it usually was. Fumbling with her key, she eventually succeeded in unlocking the door. She only just managed to smile at him. “I’ll see you in the mornin’ then, Prof.”

“Yes. We’ll have a busy day ahead of us.”

Alfendi watched her enter the room, her face paler, and shut the door.

Brushing it aside to being ill, and knowing that it was her own fault as she’d said herself she was alright, he went to go to his own room. However, he paused before he got to the end of the corridor, knowing that things weren’t quite right. It made him turn back.

He sighed, further irritation showing on his face, and knocked. “Baker, are you sure you’re-“

He was cut off by a small cry.

Immediately grasping the doorknob and turning it, he was agitated to find that the door was unlocked; anybody could have waltzed in and done whatever they wanted with her, the stupid girl. They were in a foreign village, one of its occupants a killer. As a detective, she should have known better.

He found her hunched over the toilet bowl, her stomach’s contents emptied, shaking violently and letting out a sob. Tears streamed down her face, enough to substitute for an entire day of feigning strength.

He wasn’t sure how to help her, only watching as it happened again. He finally leant down next to her, pressing his hand to her back in a way he could only speculate would be comforting.

She soon stopped, her face clammy, and tried to stand. He pulled her to her feet carefully as she looked away.

“Sorry. I… you can go now if you like.” She headed for the basin, cupping some water in her hands to wash her face.

He’d be doing no such thing. “Nonsense, you’re hardly okay.” At least by then, the crying had ceased. “I’d suggest taking a shower; you’ll feel better afterwards.”

Lucy nodded wordlessly, gathering her things. A few minutes later she disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water beginning.

He’d never been good with any sort of support. Had this been Hilda in the days when they’d worked together, he’d have mocked her for showing vulnerability and she’d have thrown something at him in return. That would have ensued some petty argument neither would remember the next day, and that would have been the end of it.

Lucy wasn’t Hilda, and even even she were remotely like her, the thought of taking the same approach didn’t sound appealing in the slightest. Vulnerability no longer equalled weakness; if anything, it said the opposite. She’d managed a whole day of investigating while feeling that way.

Taking a seat, he took off his jacket and shoes, sighing. Yet, she shouldn’t of been subjected to the feelings to begin with.

Upon her return, he rose immediately. She looked a lot better than she had, now in her sleepwear, and seemed to have calmed down immensely, the sights she’d seen temporarily forgotten.

“It’s his fault this has happened.” He said it before he could even think, but didn’t regret it. It was true.

She looked at him blankly.

“My other side’s, with that ridiculous Mystery Room,” he clarified.

“It’s nawt ridiculous,” she responded, looking hurt.

“But just look at what it’s done to you,” he retorted, finding something protective rising inside him. “All you saw with him were images on a screen that supposedly resembled a crime scene. The bodies had no impact on you… they were just pixels.” He shook his head. “And now, as a result, you’re sensitive to the real thing far more than you need to be. You wouldn’t have experienced the pain you did today if you’d been introduced to things like this far earlier.”

She sniffed. “Don’t wanna be any different.”

“What?”

“Why’d I want to get used to something as horrible as dead bodies?” she asked. “They’re real people, Prof.”

Though better, she was still pale, and for a moment he thought she may faint. But Lucy merely sat down on the bed, her head in her hands.

“It was ‘orrible, Prof, all of ‘em…” She quivered. “Nobody deserves that. But you jus’ stood there, like it didn’t effect you at all.”

 _That’s because it didn’t._  The words were on the verge of escaping, and he only just managed to restrain them. What did the dead body matter? It resembled nothing but another crime, another criminal lying in wait to be caught.

“An’ I can’t do the same. I can’t jus’… stop all my emotions. I don’t want to; they deserve that at least.”

That interested him. “Who deserves it?”

“Th-the victims. They need to know that somebody cared they died.”

“It’s not your responsibility to,” Alfendi snapped. It had come out harsher than intended, and he allowed himself a few seconds to calm down. “You can’t let your feelings get in the way, not when you do this job,” he continued. “Let their families grieve for them; let them cry at the funeral, over their gravestones, when they’re sorting through their possessions or only walking past the same place it happened. They deserve justice, and we’re the ones who give it to them. Nobody else can do this; that is our role, and we do it best with an objective mind.”

She hugged herself tightly, still shivering. “I… I know,” she finally said. “Only, it feels…”

He took the seat next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. She leant into him before she turned slightly. Slowly and carefully, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her head into his chest.

“I know.” Though, he didn’t.

It didn’t take him long to do the same. Cradling her, his chin rested on her head, and he appreciated the moment of silence more than he thought he could have. He inhaled, partially expecting her to smell like she had during her days with his other side. Nothing ridiculously floral, only fresh with a hint of the tea she liked. Even when he wasn’t in control, he’d always appreciated that smell.

But she didn’t just then. Despite being washed clean, Lucy Baker reeked of the death she’d been surrounded by. It clung to her, almost as though it intended to corrupt and destroy. For the first time in his life, he didn’t approve; it usually would have given him a thrill, only it wasn’t natural, not for her.

The embrace lasted too long to be casual or something without meaning, and even when it lessened they remained close. She sighed, looking calmer than she had all day, the weight of the ordeal lifting from her. Her eyes flickered up to his face.

“I should sleep.”

Alfendi nodded and moved to get up, but she managed a small smile, pulling him down with her as she fell onto the soft sheets. She suddenly hesitated. “I… do you mind? Staying?”

“Of course not.”

“Thank you.“ In the next second a chaste kiss was pressed onto his cheek before she pulled the covers over them. "Night, Prof,” she murmured, her breath ghosting over him.

“Goodnight.”

As her breathing gradually became rhythmic, he stared at her, the dimness of their surroundings making no difference in the amount he saw. He could feel her warmth from where he was, only inches separating them aside from where his hand gently brushed against her arm.

It wasn’t instinctive for him to be still, or particularly comforting. He was the type who needed excitement constantly, and that’s what it had been like with Hilda. They would fight, they would hate each other, and it would be some of the most wonderful moments because it  _worked_. To an extent, he missed that.

But he could have lay there for days and it would have been more than enough. Or rather, he wanted it to be enough. It was a contradiction to every extent.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t have desire for her; the night of his return had been enough proof of that. Only, it wasn’t all. For the first time, he saw two sides to everything, and both seemed equally as important.

He clutched his head slightly. It made no sense. The best way he could interpret it was that he knew calmness was needed, and part of him longed for it too. He just didn’t know if he was capable of proper comfort without being aggressive, silence without feeling a need to scream.

That was as far as his ponderings went before he followed her lead and fell into rest himself.


	13. The return of the victim

Lucy awoke the next day with determination flowing through her, a sense of purpose and knowledge of exactly what she had to do buzzing in her mind. Her sadness from the previous night had been cast aside, leaving her mind clearer.

She was a detective-constable, and she’d been at the job too long now to avoid a case purely because it was unpleasant. The fact that it  _was_  unpleasant only made her more set on finding the truth. Who knew what could happen if the culprit got away with anything else? They’d have close the lid on the case before they had the chance.

After all, she’d managed to do so back at Forbodium Castle, when all the odds were stacked against the one she trusted. Her faith in Alfendi hadn’t broken, and it wouldn’t do now. A different man he may be, and they were faced with something else, but she knew his words held water.

Perhaps she didn’t take them to heart entirely because their coping strategies were so varied, but she knew he was coming from the right direction. She had a more important job to do than be concerned about the victims. The whole village would do that for her.

Alfendi had gone to his own room to get ready for the day, and they met again outside the inn.

“The results from forensics will be back soon,” he informed her. “It should give us a new insight.”

“That’s a tad excitin’,” Lucy said, grinning. “We might be able to corner the culprit before lunch if the cause of death is specific enough!”

He smirked. “Yes, I’d say we could. If not, we’ll just be interviewing people all day… and you know how much I  _hate_  that. It’s apparently not nice to treat them all like criminals until we have evidence.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Until you’re one hundred per cent certain, Prof, we won’t be terrorising anybody.”

“Then cross your fingers that forensics have come up with something decisive, my dear.”

As they approached the scene, Lucy beginning to brace herself for the overwhelming smell of blood, a short man approached from the distance, his hand thrust towards them as he held onto a letter for dear life.

“E-Excuse me! Are you DC Baker and Inspector Layton?” he called when he caught sight of them.

“Aye, that’s us. Thank you,” she said as he reached them. She took the letter carefully, noticing how puffed he was. The news was obviously important. Opening it, she scanned what it said, her head tilting to the side ever so slightly. “It’s from Florence, Prof, get a load of this; it were poison, but for the third body only. For the other two, they can’t work out a cause of death because they were too viciously killed, but there definitely weren’t any drugs involved.”

“Poison… that’s not unexpected, but only for the last body? That’s interesting indeed.” He looked up to the church steeple, still stained with a dark brown where the body had been hanging only yesterday. “They were stabbed too, after all. It’s always the third body that has something different; what makes them so special, I wonder? What type of poison was it?”

“That’s the other strange part.” Lucy read Florence’s messy scrawl again, frowning. “They’re not sure. It’s definitely not any of the big ones; cyanide, hemlock, belladonna… but it’s pretty powerful nonetheless. They’re reckoning it were injected somehow rather than swallowed.”

“That indicates this was all pre-mediated then,” he informed her. He looked down slightly, feeling a thrill creeping back into him. Things were heating up again. “Any old household item can be used as a poison if it’s ingested, but  _injected_? That’s a whole other field, not something an ordinary person could get their hands on. I’d say it makes our suspects somebody working with chemicals, a doctor or scientist perhaps. But using it for the last body only…”

She smiled grimly. “Looks like we’ll be questioning a few people today then.” After receiving his sour look, she pressed on. “We’ve got no choice, Prof, there’s not much else to be found at the scene. We spent all day there yesterday.” Surprisingly, she knew she wasn’t just saying it to avoid going there. They needed to follow their strongest lead.

Alfendi sighed. He’d clearly been hoping for something more exciting, but with the promise of the criminal coming soon hanging over him, he agreed.

–

Three hours of tedious questioning later, and he emerged from the last house, his final bit of restraint stripping away as he slammed the door shut just after Lucy ducked through.

“Well, that was a waste of my damn time, wasn’t it?” he barked, walking a few meters away before he turned back to her. His eyes blazed with frustration. “Air tight alibis, the lot of them! What good was that bloody lead if none of them could possibly have been the one to poison them? They’re all too prim and proper to have given anybody a chemical that could kill, and they’re usually locked away securely, nobody could have stolen them!”

Lucy shut her eyes. “Steady on, Prof.” His temper had only increased throughout the questionings, and though he’d mostly kept it under wraps, she could tell that every dead end was getting to him. His smirks had slowly disappeared to be replaced with looks of pure anguish.

“This is just so boring, we should have found something by now!”

“I know, but we  _will_ ,” she promised. He couldn’t investigate like this, every second he spent not getting anywhere only made him more dangerous to the innocent. “How about we take a break for a little while? We’ll grab some lunch and when we get back, we’ll definitely get what we need.”

He sat down on the park bench, sighing. “Fine. But I’m not hungry, you go and get something for yourself.”

Finding a nearby store, she stepped inside, purchasing one of the pre-made sandwiches. She also decided that buying the local newspaper couldn’t hurt; they didn’t know much about the town itself. Giving a smile to the woman behind the counter, who looked like she could use it, it was only a reminder of why she was doing this.

When she returned, Alfendi looked to have calmed down considerably, though still seemed agitated. She handed him the paper. “I thought it migh’ help.” Biting into her sandwich, she savoured the taste. Food was always the best way to get her thoughts back on track.

He snorted, glancing at the front page. “It’s days old, it doesn’t even have the village’s take on the murder.”

“It’s understandable they ‘aven’t brought out a new issue, Prof,” she muttered. “Everybody’s just been grieving.” She pushed the memory of the pale faces from her mind. She needed to work out how to separate her thoughts from her emotions more, but the idea still seemed terrifying. What would it turn her into?

After she finished her small meal, he’d already scanned most of the articles, handing it back to her. “It’s usually a dull place, not much happens.”

“I bet. It’s nice they’ve got something like a newspaper though, to keep everybody up to date.” She too opened it up in the hope of finding something, but soon spotted the comics section. Smiling, she began, but her eyes fell on one of the figures.

Time seemed to freeze. She could only stare at it, her mind knowing exactly what she was looking at but at the same time, didn’t have the faintest idea. But suddenly, it hit her hard as she doubled over, head in her hands. Shaking, a small choking sound forced it’s way from her throat.

No, it couldn’t be.

But it was.

She was dimly aware of Alfendi shaking her, demanding to know what was wrong in that  _very second_ , but she could only speak in a rushed way, unable to hear her own words.

“The victim, i-it’s the victim Prof,” she gasped, trying to breathe.

And then he said something about how it was a local newspaper, how it wasn’t that strange for the victim to be in there given the small population of the town, and – was he  _h_ _olding_ her? - but she shook her head because he was wrong.

In truth, she hadn’t known what the man had looked like. All she knew was that his body was now compressed, making his head look bigger, his eyes bulging out in a way that could have looked entertaining when added with his strangely spiky hair. Just like he’d walked straight out of a cartoon drawing.

“No, Al,” she muttered, only just able to control herself. The world was coming back to her then, and she almost regretted that she couldn’t have spent more time alone with the knowledge so she’d have properly digested it herself.

She stabbed a finger at the comic strip, his eyes following it. He too froze, but something flickered in his eyes; an instant love for what he was seeing.

“It’s the victim when 'e’s dead.”


	14. Apparently, it's a crime

“Cole Skatch?”

“Yes. I confirmed it with a few of the villages earlier; he’s definitely the one who drew the comic. He’s the only professional artist of this town.”

Lucy nodded, not looking up at him. While she had no doubts that she’d calmed down considerably, her bout of shock only lasting a few minutes, she didn’t quite know if she could face him. That was twice Alfendi had seen her vulnerable in the past twenty four hours, and she wasn’t sure what he thought of that.

She wasn’t weak, she knew that for a fact, but in comparison to he? It was embarrassing.

She’d spent her time looking through the other comics Skatch had drawn for the paper recently, uneasiness creeping through her when she marvelled the likeness between the body and the drawing. There was another prominent leading character too, a female; the lady who was one of the first victims killed could have ended up the same way. It really did seem as though the motive was to bring his art to life, or rather, to death.

It was so wrong; how anybody could have done it seemed far beyond her understanding, and she wanted it to stay that way.

“We have two options at this stage; either we call for back up, or we question him now. Either have risks.”

Lucy could hear the smirk in his voice, and she knew which option he wanted. She’d found herself wanting it too, only there were too many unanswered questions. They didn’t have anything that tied him to the scene definitely, nor did they know how he poisoned the third victim. It would only alert him to the fact that he was being suspected, and then what?

“Are we really ready to question ‘im, Prof?”

“No,” he replied. “Not to your standards, where all the evidence comes out in your investigation. But there’s nothing else to look at; after we speak to him, we will be ready to apprehend him. His words will be all the evidence we need, his possessions too.” She looked up as he leaned in close. “Just to appease you, I am  _one hundred percent_  certain.”

“Then we’ll call for back up in the meantime,” she said, standing.

They headed towards the door to leave Alfendi’s room, where they’d spent the last while figuring out the mess, but he paused. Turning back, he surveyed her. “I’m certain I shouldn’t have to ask, but you have your gun, don’t you?”

Her gun. She hadn’t had to use it properly in so long, but she touched the cool metal gently. “Aye, Prof.” Since returning to field work, she’d been practising with it more, feeling confident in her abilities.

“Good. You’ll probably need it.” She saw him do the same, checking that his was there, for a split second before he turned, and they left the comfort of the inn behind to seek the unknown.

–

Coming to a wooden door, dusk just beginning, Alfendi knocked. A happy “come in” echoed from inside, and he threw open the door, his hand on his pistol subtly as he strode inside. Lucy followed suit, hearing the door creak and slam behind them.

The room inside was dimly lit, the only light coming from a small lantern that was placed upon a table. The curtains had been drawn shut, but something told Lucy that it wasn’t an unusual occurrence for this particular house.

Hunched over, his gaze not flickering from his work, was a man.

“I’m not really keen on having visitors today, but I suppose you’re questioning everybody in the village, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps. You’re Mr Cole Skatch, the one who draws the comics for the local newspaper?” Alfendi confirmed.

“…Yes. What can I do to help you?”

“How about an account of what you were doin’ two nights ago?” Lucy asked.

He gave a small tut, his paintbrush sliding across the canvas with ease. The room was silent for a full minute before he replied. “Am I being suspected of something?”

“Would you like to be?” Alfendi asked smoothly. He looked comfortable in the man’s presence, as though he’d been looking forward to their meeting. “You’re an artist, aren’t you? But merely a comic-writer for a small newspaper, pathetic at its finest. I bet you’d just  _love_ some recognition for one of your works. Nobody’s yet claimed that beautiful body that was hanging up on the church steeple just yesterday.”

Remembering that the man’s house may unveil some clues, Lucy set about scanning it. One half of the room was cluttered with art supplies, everything stacked up high. Unlike the rest of the house, nothing was dirty, suggesting he used and took care of them all often. He was dedicated then, but Alfendi was right; not much showed for it.

The air had a strange smell to it, not just of paint and dust, but… she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“I bet they haven’t.” At last, Skatch turned towards them. “Apparently it’s a crime.”

Lucy wasn’t liking how happy Alfendi looked, nor the way Skatch’s mouth twitched, like he was hiding a secret. “Where were you two nights ago then, Mr Skatch?” she repeated.

“Who says I was anywhere but here? Was I meant to be somewhere else?”

Alfendi scanned the room. “You’d have liked to be. You have a variety of tools here, for sculpting and woodwork alike. Any one of them could have torn the other two victims to shreds, the victims you failed to turn into masterpieces. Perhaps they got a little too…  _gory_  to be your prized piece of work. Perhaps you got impatient and couldn’t wait until after they were dead to begin working on them, so they thrashed and cried and caused you to make mistakes.”

“But Inspector, does being in possession of things that could be weapons make me a murderer?“ He gave a wry smile, his eyes studying him. “You’ve got a gun under your belt there, does that mean you’ve shot a man?”

“I might have.”

Lucy thought she heard some kind of rustling behind them, but when she turned to look, she couldn’t see a thing. She realised that she didn’t feel safe at all in the room. As steady and calm this suspect seemed, there was something about him that told her there was more to come.

Skatch sighed as he began to wipe down his paintbrush. “Mr… Layton, was it? I’ve heard of you. As much as I enjoy the praise for the artwork, as I’m sure you’ve noticed it resembles one of my characters, that doesn’t make me a killer. What evidence do you have?”

“Pencil shavings. The culprit wasn’t just there to kill.” He took out the bag from his pocket, shaking it slightly. “Left from that night… but who could possibly have been in possession of them? It tells us that somebody was drawing, and I’m sure we’d find a pencil that they’d belong to among your collection… along with some beautiful sketches of your characters that look somewhat more realistic. Looking at the works you have on display, I know you struggle with that. They’re too… empty. That was your aim; realism, and what’s more down to earth than a murder?” He sighed, almost looking disappointed. “A murder for the sake of art… it’s over used. Desperation at its worst.”

Skatch took off his glasses, giving them a wipe-down. He seemed more tense than earlier. “It’s not a crime to sharpen a pencil.” Picking up another brush and smearing it with paint, he turned back to his art. “Tell me, what was the cause of death?”

Alfendi caught on, and his mouth opened a little wider. “…Ah. You’re asking me to provide an answer of how you did it, yes?”

Lucy’s heart thumped in her chest, and she scanned their surroundings. They didn’t have enough to prove he’d poisoned the victim, and though Alfendi was keeping the facade up well, she had to find something quickly. Stepping away from the two men, she went to the back of the small house, looking about. The particular smell made itself known to her again, and she frowned as she peered through the darkness at the source, a pile of tiny little skeletons. So small that they belonged to an animal, in fact.

That didn’t make any sense, he had no use for them and there were too many to be for some sort of art reference. What if he’d needed them when they were alive, however? Spotting a small enclosure where the lid had been removed in the corner of the room, her mouth seemed to go dry. She’d remembered seeing something similar before, and in it had been…

“A snake…” she mused. The skeletons belonged to mice.

That was how he’d murdered the final man, after two failed attempts. Using brute force hadn’t worked out for the other victims, so after the poison kicked in and the man was quickly dead, Skatch was free to do as he liked with the body. That was why it was different; it was the only one he’d succeeded with.

“Prof, 'e’s got a snake, and he used it to kill the third man. He tried to cover it up by stabbing 'im so we’d think he’d died from that, only-”

She’d by then turned around, gasping and raising her gun immediately. The topic of their conversation was right next to Alfendi’s leg, and he turned his head downwards as it brushed against him, the smirk disappearing from his face. Slowly, it entwined itself up him until it reached his torso.

“…I see you’ve met my friend. He doesn’t take too kindly to being accused of killing,” Skatch informed them. He began to pack up his things, slowly and purposefully.

“It’s you we’re accusing,” Alfendi spat, a small trickle of sweat rolling down the side of his face. “Get this thing off me, or I’ll make sure  _your_  body is the next one to be hanging from that church steeple!” His hand tried to reach for his gun, but was trapped.

Ignoring the last part, Skatch continued to clean off his brushes. “Well, he didn’t much like that either. I think I’ll be leaving now; my dearest cobra will keep you company. Careful though, I hear his bites hurt, and he doesn’t like loud noises.”

“Don’t you dare move.” Lucy pointed her gun towards him and watched as his movements ceased. “Don’t take another step. You’re under arrest; get your snake off 'im.”

Her heart pounded, but she found that any tremors she had left were gone.

He stared at her for a few seconds before he smiled, looking away. “You won’t shoot me. It would startle my dear friend here, and,” he took a step forward to run his hand along the snake, “he might panic and sink his teeth into the nearest thing possible. Surely  _you_ know all about panicking, Miss Baker? It seems you’ve done a lot of it recently.”

She felt like she’d just been submerged in water. He’d been watching them this entire time.

“Lucy-” Alfendi began, but ceased as the snake wrapped around him more, its head hovering inches away from his face.

Skatch strolled casually to the door, right past Alfendi, who could only turn his eyes. “I must say, Inspector… I expected more from you. I’ve heard so many good stories, but you’re slipping; am I too much of a challenge? But thank you; once the snake’s had its fun with you and leaves, providing it doesn’t kill you before then, you’ll definitely tell the tale of what I did, but by then I’ll be long gone. I’ll get the credit without the punishment.”

“No, you won’t,” Lucy snapped. She knew exactly what she had to do.

Pointing her gun away from him, she took aim for a new target, knowing that if she were even the slightest bit off, the consequences would be dire. She locked eyes with Alfendi for a split second, seeing the questions form in his eyes before they quickly faded, steadying her hands as she pulled the trigger. The bullet shot towards him, the bang echoing through the room and a small thud following as the snake’s head came clean off, falling to the ground.

“No!” Skatch yelled, moving backwards and bumping into his desk. Lucy aimed at him this time, slowly stepping forward as Alfendi untangled himself from the snake’s body.

After getting himself free, he wasted not a second. He shoved the man up against the wall, pinning his arms against his back as he clicked on the handcuffs.

“Unfortunately for you,” he muttered. “Lucy Baker conquers any challenges she’s faced with.”


	15. If that's enough

“A lunatic,” Lucy muttered. “That’s what ‘e is.”

She stared at the drawings spread out in front of them. The majority featured Skatch’s characters, smiling happily, holding hands, doing exactly what they were supposed to do. But then there were a select few that presented not a character, but the third victim. They were far colder than the others, dragging the viewer from cheerful oblivion into a sharp and harmful world.

“Of course he is. There’s no reasonable motive for any of this.” Alfendi rolled his eyes. “It was still a thrill, but… disappointingly so.”

“Excuse me? I saved you from getting killed by that snake!” Lucy replied. “Without me, you’d be dead given there’s no hospital nearby, weren’t that thrilling enough? And a criminal is a criminal, Prof, I’m astounded you’d call one disappointin’.”

“He was more entertaining than anything else I’m faced with in day to day life, but when it comes to other criminal minds… he fell short on the spectrum. With victims like his, I honestly hoped for more.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, packing away the artwork. The pieces were perfect evidence for the court case that would follow, though she didn’t want to look at them any longer. “Maybe you’re disappointed because I saved the day. You weren’t the real hero this time.” She was grinning. “You’re welcome.”

“Don’t get cocky now, Baker,” he snapped, turning away. After a few seconds, he looked back at her. “Still. You did well.”

Her smile remained. He wasn’t the one for compliments, she’d learned that long ago. With everything he’d knew she’d been faced with in this case, it seemed to matter more coming from him than from anybody else.

For a second, the image of the Placid Prof flickered across her mind.

“Thanks, Prof.”

Darkness had fallen by then, and with the case finished Lucy didn’t much feel like staying in the village any longer than what had been necessary. Taking one last look at Skatch’s house, she gathered the evidence and placed it carefully in her bag, stepping out into the cool night.

Boarding the train, it was only when she allowed her body to sink into the seats in their compartment that she realised just how exhausted she was. The day’s excitement, which had been buzzing around frantically in her mind for the past few hours, was fading, leaving her body with a numbness that was strangely pleasant. As the train was set in motion, she found that the gentle movements lulled her into a thoughtless state as she left all her nightmares behind.

–

“Lucy.”

She opened her eyes slowly, frowning. Things seemed much quieter than they’d been before, and she realised that they’d already arrived at King’s Cross. She sighed, gently sliding her fingers through her hair to get rid of the tangles. “Sorry Prof, I didn’t realise I’d even dozed off.”

“You were out the entire journey. An impressive feat, since it wasn’t exactly a smooth ride.”

He was speaking from next to her, and she realised that she had been – and still was – leaning against him. She’d have expected him to push her off or something, but she’d slept soundly with no disturbances. “Normal people rest when they’re tired, you know, it’s not so weird.”

“Apparently, but it’s a waste of time.”

She shook her head, but couldn’t help smiling. “Whatever you say.”

It was colder in London than it had been in the village, and she shivered when they stepped out of the station. Making their way back to his car, the coolness waking her up, she succumbed to the sudden urge of wanting to grasp his hand.

He took a moment to react, but when his warm fingers entwined in her own, she felt comforted beyond belief.

She didn’t know what was between her and Alfendi anymore. She might have once hated him, but she couldn’t now despite everything; he’d taken somebody away from her, but she knew that wasn’t how he saw it. He’d suffered through the last few years, struggling to even control his own body, and all just to be incriminated of a murder.

It didn’t mean she blamed the other Alfendi in the slightest for what he’d believed had happened at Forbodium Castle. If she were placed in the same position… well, she couldn’t predict what her reaction would be.

Where that left her and Alfendi was another question entirely, and one that she found herself needing the answer to.

“What are we?”

They continued walking for a few more steps before he suddenly stopped. Turning towards her, his face showed an emotion she rarely saw; confusion.

“What… are…” he murmured. “You’ll have to rephrase.”

“I mean, what are  _we_ , Prof? What’s this,” she said as she lifted up their hands, “and the night you returned, an’…” she trailed off, searching his face, “jus’ everything.”

“Well, what do you  _want_  us to be?”

She frowned. “I’m not sure I follow now, Prof.”

“Would you ever go out with a maniac?”

“…Come again?”

“Perhaps it’s escaped your notice, but I’m not a good person by any definition of the word, and that tends to complicate everything when people believe otherwise. Especially since there’s one of me again; there’s not a Placid side that makes me look tolerable and the rest of it. And don’t try to correct me, because you’d be wrong.”

“You pu’ criminals in prison every day-”

“I take  _pleasure_ in watching other people suffer if it means there’s a criminal at the other end,” he cut in. “If I’ll get answers, I have no trouble in offering to remove somebody’s limbs to get them to talk. Seeing this distorted, beautiful being that is twisted beyond belief in the conclusion is the only reason I do any of this. To see that, nothing else matters to me. It’s not like I keep my emotions and my thoughts separate, as I suggested you do; there’s never been a need to, because my feelings have not and never will distract me from my work. I’m not shocked to see a body, or sympathetic towards a grieving family member. It has no effect on me, aside from often exciting me for what the mystery will reveal.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. It was information she already knew, but things had changed since then. He was right; there was no Placid side, no balance between anger and calmness. It was just one man, the one Alfendi Layton, and to the average person he would be considered dangerous.

He stared at her, his thumb rubbing the inside of her wrist. “But, you’re the golden exception to this life I live. The only one. I would never stand to see you get hurt, and anybody who tries will meet a very quick and unfortunate end. And if you can accept that this will only ever apply to you, and that I have no intentions of changing my mindset to anything else…”

Then she’d know exactly what she’d be getting herself into when she fell in love. Lucy knew she already was. She had been for a long time now, but admitting that and going further… the concept was strange.

“I can’t be the only one,” she muttered. “Your family, the people we work with… they’ve gotta mean something.”

“Perhaps. But never,  _never_  to the same extent. That night, when I first came back, it wasn’t just to make a dramatic entrance. I don’t know when I would have finally resurfaced otherwise, but the second I saw you in danger, and I… the  _other_  me, wasn’t doing a damn thing about it, I wasn’t going to wait there and let you come to harm. Later, seeing you properly for the first time in a year, you were flawless, and I don’t use that word for nothing.“

He stopped, pressing his lips carefully to the top of her head, and for a moment they remained still in the rare silence of London.

"If that’s enough for you, Lucy Baker, then you know what I want us to be,” he finished.

By then they’d moved closer together, and she could feel his breath against her. Closing her eyes, Lucy took a moment. He didn’t have to say the precise words for her to know exactly what everything translated to.

Neither did she, when she finally reached up to kiss him in response.


	16. Silly notions

Waking up to find somebody else next to him became a common occurrence that at first, seemed strange.

Though, it was more because it meant he’d actually slept than the presence of Lucy herself. To them, the change in their relationship didn’t seem all that foreign, and though they’d likely skipped a step or two, they were unnecessary ones. From the beginning, it’d felt more like they were repeating themselves than starting something new.

Some days, it frustrated him. He had not been in control the first time his lips had touched hers, or the first time he’d heard her say that she loved him, or any of the other sentimental things he realised the absence of which bothered him. This body had experienced so much, so having it happen again felt familiar rather than something he could experience first-hand.

How different it would be if he’d only ever existed as one.

Alfendi didn’t have long to mull over it, however. A surge of cases suddenly hit them, every criminal in London deciding to let their homicidal tenancies fly for a few solid weeks, and while it was keeping him wonderfully entertained, for the first time in his life he found himself becoming weary by the end of each day. When he’d remarked it to Lucy, she’d snorted in response.

“Welcome to the world o’ normal people, Prof,” she said, unable to stop her grin.

Still, he was finding the sleep bearable, so long as he wasn’t alone. He could then pass it off as doing it for her sake, but unbeknownst to him, nobody would believe it for a second. Most at Scotland Yard knew that even the tough, terrifying Alfendi Layton was human.

He was pulled from rest too early – though far later than he’d ever intended anyway – on his day off one morning to the shrill sound of the phone. Flailing about for a second, feeling Lucy stirring next to him, he realised that answering the one by the bedside table would result in having the conversation there. Not only would it irritate the other occupying his bed, he’d likely fall back asleep himself.

Finally stumbling his way into the other room, he picked up the second one in the flat.

“Yes?” he snapped.

“ _Alfendi_?”

He didn’t bother hiding his sigh. He definitely was not in the mood for speaking to anybody, least of all this man in particular. “Hello, lovely of you to call. Can’t chat long, I have more important things to be doing.”

From the next room over, Lucy could hear the irritation her – it had always seemed a strange word, but she supposed it was the correct one to use – boyfriend was showing.  _Crikey, somebody’s got_ _ten_ _him in a bad mood already._

She tried not to listen in, only the rising voice made her all too curious. Casting her sleepiness aside temporarily, she couldn’t make out what he was saying at all. Glancing over at the phone, she pondered for a second before she picked it up, holding her breath to avoid being detected.

“ _So can I take it you won’t be coming?_ ” the voice sounded on the verge of being disappointed, but she mostly detected a badly disguised hurt.

“ _No, I won’t_ _be_ _._ ”

“ _Flora misses you, Alfendi. She hasn’t seen you in a long time._ ”

“ _No, she misses the side_ _of me_ _that wasn’t honest with her about her_ _god-awful_ _cooking, but he’s long gone, father. Trust me when I say that you’d not enjoy the company I’d give._ _I_ _t w_ _ould_ _be entirely one-sided,_ _as it should be.”_ There was a brief pause after the cocky statement.

“ _Something tells me we should talk about this,_ _my boy_ _,_ ” the second voice said quietly.

There was a sharp laugh. “ _What, the Commissioner’s regular reports_ _about_ _my actions_ _aren’t enough for you? There’s nothing to talk about._ _And save that term of endearment for your_ precious _old apprentice!”_  The last word was spat out as he hung up, and Lucy quickly did the same in case he’d come back right away, covering herself with the duvet.

A family dispute wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned, and she almost wished it were something else. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for his father, despite knowing nothing of their relationship.

It was a few minutes before Alfendi re-entered. He wasn’t looking pleased, rummaging through his drawer for some clothing wordlessly.

“E'erything okay?” she asked.

“Just fine. Nobody important, but you already knew that.” He took one look at her horrified expression, seeing it turn to relief as he smirked. “Don’t play me for a fool. I solve murders for a living; didn’t you expect I’d notice that the phone hasn’t been put back in the right place despite me not touching it?”

“Ee… sorry, Prof,” she said. “You sounded so agitated, I were worried.”

“My father just likes to bother me from time to time with some silly notion that I might like to see him.”

That interested her. “Isn’t he a professor? The one who’s been on all those adventures?” Though the famous Professor Layton had been most well-known before she was born, tales of what he’d accomplished were still widely known.

“If you could call them that.” His voice was cold. “I’m going to take a shower.”

As he left, Lucy realised that she know very little about Alfendi’s family. His other side had never gotten around to introducing them, and it didn’t sound as though Potty planned on doing it himself anytime soon. She found herself wondering the cause for the resentment.

Perhaps one day she’d do some digging, she thought as she rested her head against the pillow again.


	17. Familiarities

His head was buzzing.

It was far from the pleasant sensation he’d often experienced by the end of a case. While they had just solved one – many that day, in fact – instead of feeling waves of satisfaction crashing down to drown him in glory, he was just…

Fatigued.

The cases hadn’t been particularly tricky. The problem had lay in the large quantity, and they’d resorted to using crime scene reconstructions for most of them, the machine itself having accumulated a hefty layer of dust in the months of its disuse. Alfendi had hated to admit it, but it made things run much more quickly and smoothly. While they were investigating and interrogating, the data was already being compiled for another case, and so they worked right up until eleven o'clock that night.

Lucy didn’t bother trying to hide her exhaustion. She gave him a smile that displayed relief, though it was somewhat grim, at having survived the day.

“That were a load I hope we don’t ‘ave to face again,” she said, falling onto the ground and leaning back against the bookshelf. “What’s brought all that on, aye?”

“Whatever it was, they should have the decency to give me a day off.”

“You’re getting soft,” she teased. “And criminals don’t have any decency.”

He smirked, pushing his hair out of the way. “I think you’ll find that some certainly do. And whose fault would that be, I wonder? I’ve being playing spot the criminal all day, and you’re coming close.”

“Hey now, careful what ya say,” she said, a yawn quickly interrupting her cheery smile. “I’m heading off, Prof, I’m beat. Unless there’s more than five cases tomorrow, I’ll be stayin’ home.” She pushed herself off the ground, straightening her cap a little.

“That sounds like a reasonable arrangement, but we don’t work in reasonable conditions, do we?” His lips turned upwards in a smirk. “Still, unless there’s a case I’m  _dying_  to show you, I won’t call you in.” He kissed her briefly. “And Lucy? You should take it as a compliment. I  _adore_  criminals.”

He heard her laugh as he sat back further in his chair, closing his eyes as he heard the door open and then close, the room falling to silence.

After a few minutes, Alfendi could feel the need he’d been suppressing for the entire day nagging him. Lighting a cigarette, he inhaled deeply, holding it between his teeth as he gathered the last of his things.

It lasted him the journey home, but barely. The second he opened the door to his flat, his hand had already delved into his pocket to retrieve another, feeling he’d deserved to smoke as many as he damn-well liked after the fiasco that had been the last few weeks.

He didn’t even manage to take out one. The packet tumbled from his fingers, falling to the ground as the cigarettes scattered on the floor around him.

Alfendi was tired. He’d accepted that, as foreign as it was to experience the sensation. But staring at the mess in front of him, he knew that it hadn’t been an accident, dropping them so suddenly. His hand had done it deliberately.

Yet, it was not he who had controlled it.

He pressed his palm against his forehead, ashamed to feel the trembling of his fingers. “No,” he muttered, backing up into the door and leaning on it for support, his nails scraping against the wood painfully. He breathed in, forgetting entirely about the cigarettes, and closed his eyes. This was impossible.

But it obviously wasn’t. In another instant, they opened again, this time much wider. “ _NO_!” He tugged at his hair urgently, a cry escaping him.

He stumbled across to the bathroom, his hands slamming onto the bench as he leant forward, gasping for air. After he’d gotten a few lungfuls, he steadied himself slightly. Alfendi finally forced himself to look up at the mirror, and staring into his eyes, he saw that they were just a little lighter than usual. Not to the colour of  _his_  eyes, but they were close. Oh, they were definitely close enough for him to know that he was no longer alone. Something else was stirring inside him.

A familiar headache began to form.

He didn’t allow himself any more time to think about it. The image in front of him shattered as his fist connected with the glass, and as nonsensical as it was, he hoped the nightmare would be destroyed along with it.

But he’d never really believed in hope.


	18. We need your help

The headache didn’t go away, and he was fighting for his life.

Alfendi was struggling for every breath he took, every heartbeat he would experience thudding in his chest, because he could feel himself slipping away whenever he wasn’t concentrating hard enough. It would take mere seconds of his mind’s silence before he’d disappear, the shock of it all enough to bring him back, but only just.

He refused to sleep for the first night. He wasn’t sure he’d wake up.

But it couldn’t continue. Alfendi found his mind miles away while his body remained put, not moving though he knew somebody else was inhabiting it. He was losing everything and he couldn’t, not again. There seemed far too much at stake this time, and his lack of energy only jeopardised him more.

So he allowed himself a few hours a night, his piercing alarm clock there to make him rise in the mornings. It was enough, along with constant concentration on his actions, to keep him there without interruption.

But he was wearing thin, his body refusing to keep up with the lifestyle. How long would it be until he broke entirely?

The idea sent an aggression like no other through him, coursing through his veins and exploding out into the open world. Witnesses were no longer toyed with for entertainment, only constantly reprimanded no matter what they said. Solving crimes held no benefits aside from keeping his mind active. Life became darker than he’d experienced in a long time.

It was when he’d sent out a recently widowed woman in tears after a particularly brutal interrogation that Lucy finally reacted.

“Prof, pull your head in!” she demanded, her hands crossing in front of her. “That weren’t nice, and not even you could find something good about doin’ it. There’s nowt tying her to the crime at all!”

“My  _deepest_  apologies,” he all but sneered in reply, hearing a timid knock at the door.

Florence stood in front of him, her eyes avoiding his sharp gaze, with a file in her hands. “The blood sample’s – ACHOO! - been examined, Al,” she said quickly. “Matches the gardener.”

He snatched it away from her, ignoring her obvious flinch. “At last, we might  _finally_  get somewhere in this case!”

As she shuffled away, Alfendi closing the door too roughly behind her, Lucy sighed.

“Steady on,” she muttered under her breath.

They wouldn’t be able to investigate anything else due to how late the hour was growing, so Alfendi decided to create a summary of the case, knowing it would keep his mind active enough. Lucy was already seated at her own desk, starting on the case reports she’d have to hand in to the Commissioner before she left.

He didn’t get very far. He was feeling the odd sensation that he was losing himself again, knowing that he needed to reaffirm his presence. Smoking was the only thing he could cling to as being in his control, being  _him_. Taking out his box of matches, he lit up a cigarette. Inhaling from it, his eyes closed as he felt the smoke in his lungs, relieving something within him slightly.

“God, Prof, again?” Lucy said, looking up from her desk. “Do you have to?”

“Don’t act as though I do it often,” he snapped while keeping it balanced precariously between his teeth. He couldn’t say his words were truthful though; the last week alone, he’d smoked more than he had in his lifetime under the misguided assumption it would cure him.

Smelling the foulness, Lucy rose, immediately opening a window. “At least don’t let me choke to death in here.”

“Fantastic,” he replied sarcastically, removing it from his mouth. “Now all of London can choke to death instead! I wonder, would that make me the criminal or you? What a case!”

“Stop,” she muttered, sitting back down. She tried to focus on her work, but she could still smell it far too strongly. His behaviour these past few days had not ceased to shock her. She’d never expected politeness – tolerance for others at best – but this took it do a whole new level. “I don’t understand how you can do tha’ to yourself anyhow.” Feeling her lungs’ involuntary protests was enough.

“It’s not going to kill me.”

She snorted. “See, that there would be a perfectly sound statement if cancer didn’t exist.”

Doing her best to ignore it, leaning away as much as possible, she continued with her work.  _Date. Case number. Leading Investigator._  But the open window was doing nothing to let fresh air in, nor remove the smoke. It wasn’t long before her coughing began.

It was slight at first, but as she clutched her stomach to try and stop it, it only got worse. She couldn’t suppress it no matter how hard she tried, and it wasn’t as though she could just stop breathing. She did her best to continue her work, but her pen faltered as it got to  _Case_ _S_ _tatus_. She couldn’t do it.

“If you’re trying to make me feel guilty,” Alfendi warned, not looking up.

She eventually had to stumble to the other side of the room where the air hadn’t been so tainted, taking in deep breaths and trying to control the small fit. It gradually stopped, but her breathing was trickier than it should have been. Her lungs didn’t seem willing to get the amount of oxygen she really needed, the relief she was desperate to feel in her chest not coming.

The room was spinning slightly. That probably wasn’t a good sign. Still, it was better than before, and she closed her eyes, sliding down to the ground.

The room suddenly became very silent, and she no longer heard the sounds of his pen at work.

“Lucy,” Alfendi muttered.

Freezing, she realised that it wasn’t his voice. No, that was wrong; it  _was,_ but used in a way that she hadn’t heard in so long. She looked up to find him approaching her, his hand outstretched. The cigarette was discarded, his eyes soft and gentle, and she could only gasp.

It wasn’t the Alfendi she’d been forced to grow accustomed to. The defences she’d placed around her heart shattered instantly, all the hope she’d suppressed for her own good rushing back.

“I’m fine!” she said, rising before stumbling back down again. That hadn’t been a good idea. Weak with the shock of it all, she could only stare at him as he knelt down beside her. “Prof, y-you’re back.”

“I’m sorry, I-” He hissed suddenly, holding his head and groaning. He let out a shaky breath, dropping his hand, and she saw how pained his eyes were. “I’m so sorry. You’re asthmatic, you need to go the hospital.”

“No I don’t, it’s only mild,” she said. “I just need a few minutes and I’ll be fine.” It didn’t help convince him as she coughed again.

Of course she hadn’t recovered, but she would, without a doubt. The window finally seemed to be doing something, and the air was clearing up.

He hugged her gently. “I’m so s-sorry.” It was a choked sob now, and she could feel him trembling against her. She realised that he probably needed the comfort more than her.

“Prof, shush,” she ordered, clinging to him tightly. Her mind was still a mess, not understanding a thing except that she needed to calm him down. “Just… it’s okay. Quiet now.” She ran her fingers through his hair, the duller colour strangely unfamiliar. It had been too long.

“L-Lucy, I…” He took in a sharp breath, but before she could react, jerked backwards. “NO!” he cried, clutching his head and staggering away. In a split second, she knew Potty was back. “ _N_ _o_ , I refuse, I… _DAMMIT_!” By then he’d backed into his desk, looking around the room wide-eyed.

She found herself lost, unable to say a thing, watching his chest heave and his body shake.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said helplessly, and he sounded more like his other side. Then she blinked, and when her eyes opened, he’d fled, the sound of his quick footsteps echoing through the halls.

“Alfendi!” Lucy yelled, trying to stand. It didn’t work, and she cried out, trying to pull herself together. She managed to do so enough to get out of the room, but by then he was gone.

Determined, she rushed to the entrance of Scotland Yard, but it was no good; the streets of London were quiet and empty. He wasn’t there. She called out, but silence was her only reply.

Panicking, she knew that her options were few. He hadn’t taken his phone, she was certain of that, so she couldn’t call him. She doubted very much he was heading back to his flat. Every second he spent alone was another opportunity for him to do something incredibly stupid.

Everybody else had gone home; Florence was the last to leave after handing her report to them. But, seeing the light on in just one office, she had a chance to getting immediate assistance. Running faster than she should have, her lungs screaming, she reached the door in seconds, banging against it desperately.

“Commissioner Barton, please, you ‘ave to help me,” she gasped. “Alfendi-”

She didn’t get a chance to say any more. The door opened wide, the man taking one look at her panicked face and sensing the urgency of the situation. “DC Baker, what’s happened?” His tone was calm and she was relieved; one of them had to be.

“The Prof – Placid Prof – 'e came back for a minute, but then Potty returned an’ he…  _they_ , they’re gone. They’re both panicking, sir, and I don’t know where they are or what he’ll do, and I’m frightened for the two of 'em.”

The Commissioner stayed still for a few seconds, but suddenly launched into action. Picking up the phone, he quickly dialled a number, holding it against his ear.

“Hershel?” he said after a few seconds of waiting. “I’m sorry for calling so late, but-” He stopped talking momentarily, sighing. “Yes, it’s Alfendi. We need your help.”


	19. Something's wrong

Lucy couldn’t think about the entire day’s happenings without her mind twisting and turning as it did its best to comprehend everything.

It had begun with a case, as always. But, just as he had been the past few days, Alfendi was not intrigued, nor excited, by it. Everything frustrated him to the extent where what usually would have been a fascinating witness account only had him yelling. Then they’d wrapped up for the day, doing their work in silence, when…

Her still aching chest was the only proof she had that what had happened had been real.

He lived to antagonise. She couldn’t count the amount of times a day their conversations ended up in harmless mocking because there were simply too many.

But that hadn’t been harmless, had it?

_I would never stand to see you get hurt, and anybody who tries will meet a very quick and very unfortunate end._

She felt sick just thinking about his words. While Placid had been apologetic, Potty had fled. To where and why remained an utter mystery.

“How are you feeling, Lucy?” the Commissioner asked after a long period of silence. They hadn’t said a word since she’d tried to call Alfendi’s flat, and doing nothing was destroying her. Still, she knew there was a reason. They were waiting for somebody, and they would be able to help.

She breathed in, glad to feel less of a strain on her lungs. Perhaps it was a good thing they’d delayed their actions for now; it had given her some much needed time to recover. “I’m alright, Commissioner. Worried sick ‘bout him though.”

“As soon as somebody arrives, we’ll discuss the best course of action.”

The question that she’d wanted to ask escaped. “Who’s Hershel, sir?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know, I’d have thought Alfendi – the calmer Alfendi at least – would have introduced you two.” He smiled wryly. “Though, perhaps you know him better by his profession and last name; Professor Layton.”

Her mouth fell open. “The Prof’s dad?” She found herself pausing. “Sir, will he really be able to 'elp us? I’m not saying he isn’t nice, only Alfendi… Potty anyhow, despises him.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but there was an urgent knock at the door. “Come in,” he called, and before she knew it, Lucy was looking at the face of a man she’d seen in history books and newspapers.

Only, this face was far paler, far more worried. Instead of a calm smile, his expression was grim, and he looked as though something entirely was missing.

She knew in that second that however Potty or Placid felt about the man in front of her was irrelevant. Nothing could convince her that Professor Layton felt anything less for his son than unconditional love, and as such, would do anything he could to see him safe.

“Any news?” he asked quickly, holding on to his hat securely.

The Commissioner shook his head. “I’m sorry, but there’s none. DC Baker tried to call his flat earlier, but nobody picked up.”

“Baker…” A small smile fell onto the Professor’s lips as he looked at her. “Lucy Baker, yes? Alfendi told me about you.”

That was news to her. It must have been the Placid side. She felt herself warming towards the man, but realised now was hardly the time for usual introductions. They had far more pressing concerns.

They explained the situation to the Professor, who only looked more and more grave by the minute. By the time they’d finished, Lucy found her head in her hands.

“Potty’s outta control,” she whispered. “'E… 'e just wants to live a normal life, but ‘e can’t.” Her stomach twisted at the thought. What would she do if put into the same situation? Granted, she’d never shown an inch of the frustration he did on a daily basis… but what if there was another side of her that could when placed under those circumstances?

The Professor looked grave, his hat lowering over his eyes. “No. His life has never been remotely close to normal. Yet…” He sighed, looking up at them. “Where would he go?”

“We’re stuck for leads currently, Hershel. If you have any idea at all, please share it.”

“He and his sister Flora were always close, only she’s abroad currently,” he replied. “I don’t know if he’s aware of that fact however; according to her, they haven’t spoken in a while. He might try to go to her flat regardless, I’m relatively certain he has a key.”

“Perhaps you should try calling, then,” the Commissioner suggested.

Only, the attempt was futile. If Alfendi was indeed there, he was doing his best to go unknown.

“Would he seek help from another co-worker?” the Commissioner asked.

Lucy shook her head. “Not Potty, 'e wouldn’t run to them for help, not in his state. And surely they would’ve contacted us if he had; they know what 'e’s like.”

“Then perhaps he’s looking to be alone currently.” After receiving a sharp look from both Lucy and Hershel, the Commissioner corrected himself. “That’s not to say that I think he should be, not when he’s in the state you’ve described. But if the aim was to get away from people, where would he go?”

“Somewhere he’d be certain he’d be alone,” Hershel murmured.

The sound of the phone ringing made them all jump. Casting a weary look at each other before the Commissioner picked it up, Lucy and Hershel found themselves holding their breath.

“Commissioner Barton speaking.” He listened for a moment, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Are you certain? Which platform?” He waited again, his eyes closing. “I see,” he murmured. “Thank you for letting me know, I’ll get in touch with you soon.”

Placing the phone down, he looked back to Lucy and Hershel. “Alfendi’s been spotted by one of my senior officers.”

“Really?!” Lucy exclaimed. “They know where he is?”

“Unfortunately not. He was causing a big commotion down at the train station; he was desperate to board one only seconds before it left.” He shook his head. “He’s not in a good state; most of the people there wanted him arrested, they found him that concerning.”

That sounded like Potty.

“But you found out which platform the train departed from, yes?” Hershel asked. “We can work out where he’s going if we look at the schedules.”

“I already know. That particular route only has one place of interest to either side of Alfendi. I’m certain you can work out where that means he’s going, DC Baker.”

It took her a second, but she suddenly lifted her hand to her mouth in shock. Secluded, meaningful to both sides and far away enough that he’d choose to take a train. There was only one place that fit the criteria. “Why’d 'e be going to Forbodium Castle of all places?!” she cried, jumping to her feet.

“That’s where it all began,” Hershel said quietly. “What happened there that day has determined everything else since. Whatever the reason, it wouldn’t be wise for us to delay. Taking the train would be the fastest way, however I doubt there’s another until morning.”

“Then we’ll drive, sirens an’ all,” Lucy said, determination running through her. They had their lead, now they needed to make the most of it. That’s what he would have done if their positions were reversed.

By that point everybody was on their feet, and then they walked briskly to one of the patrol vehicles. Before they knew it, they were speeding off into the night with one, desperate location in mind.

–

It was just like the first time she’d gone to Forbodium Castle. She couldn’t remember the journey there, only that silence had covered everybody in the car, nobody knowing quite what to say. Nothing else filled her mind but a hopeless plea.

_Be alright, Prof, please. We’ll work all of this out._

They finally arrived, noticing the dark clouds collecting above them. All three ran towards the entrance, and as they did, Lucy caught sight of a figure atop the west tower. Coat billowing out in the wind, he stood motionless, his back facing them.

“Alfendi,” she murmured, stopping for only a second to stare before rejoining the others.

“We can’t all go up there,” the Commissioner said. “I feel it would be best for me to remain by the entrance, in case he comes back down. The two of you should stick together, if you know where he is.”

“The west tower, righ’ at the top,” Lucy said breathlessly. “We’ll… w-we’ll see you soon, Commissioner.”

Lucy had to admit how impressed she was by the man running beside her. It was no secret that Professor Layton was rising in age, his hair well and truly grey and more than a few wrinkles showing. Yet he was keeping up with her pace, a fact she was thankful for. Though she didn’t want to leave him behind, she didn’t know that she could stand to wait for him either.

Up each flight of stairs they went, and something suddenly struck her as very, very wrong.

“He’s different!” she yelled out. “When I saw 'im on the roof, he’s different somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

The realisation dawned on her quickly. “…The coat. ‘E’s got a coat on!”

Nothing but their footsteps thudding along the stairway was heard for a few seconds before he replied. “But he always wears a coat, doesn’t he? The long, white one.”

“No,” she muttered. “Not Potty.”

They finally managed to throw open the door to the roof, and as Alfendi’s head turned towards her, she understood. It hadn’t been Potty that had been desperate to escape, eager to board a train that would take him far, far away from them. They’d had it all wrong.

They were staring into the lost and terrified eyes of Placid.


	20. Accidents

Everything was quiet.

They stood there for a long time, all three unable to tear their gazes away from each other. The wind blowing against them made not a sound, the rumbling of the sky overhead noiseless.

It was Lucy who finally spoke first, choosing her words carefully. Seeing the way Alfendi’s chest heaved, how wide his eyes were and how pale and clammy his skin appeared, she knew she had no choice but to tread lightly.

“Prof, it’s okay. We’re ‘ere now, and we’re gonna work this out, alright?”

“L-Lucy.” He turned away, looking back out at the vast nothingness, the wasteland that surrounded the castle. His fingers entwined in his hair. “I’m so sorry.”

She stepped forward slowly. “Alfendi, I forgive you. It were an accident, and I’m fine now, I prom-”

“IT WASN’T AN ACCIDENT!” He spun around, and for a second she honestly believed he’d changed into his other side. His tone was sharp and abrupt, cutting through her words effortlessly. Placid was never that loud.

The most astounding thing was that he remained the quieter side. His hair underwent no alteration, and there was something about his expression that said he wasn’t meaning to be aggressive. She realised then that it was Placid that must have caused the commotion at the train station; he certainly wasn’t okay. It went against his nature entirely.

“God, it wasn’t an accident, Lucy. These hands picked up the cigarette voluntarily and didn’t stop when you were distressed. It was on purpose.”

“Alfendi, you meant no harm to her, and that’s what makes it a mistake.”

The Professor stepped forward after his words, and it was then that Alfendi seemed to truly realise he was there. His eyes looked him up and down before he let out a small whisper. “D-Dad?”

Suddenly, he staggered backwards dangerously close to the edge, his hand on his forehead, and this time he truly had changed. “Oh Father, how lovely to see you, you know I always cherish your visits,” he spat. “Come to witness the destruction of a genius?”

But as quickly as he’d come, Potty slipped away again, though not by choice of either side. Slumping against the stone barrier, Alfendi’s head hung down and his hands scrambled for support.

It took another few seconds for him to shakily rise, using the castle walls. He continued to lean back for support, eyes closed and breathing unsteady.

“Oh, Prof,” Lucy muttered, wanting nothing more than to hold him to keep his fragile pieces together. “What’s happened?”

He finally looked up, pushing his hair back only to have it blown into his face again. Droplets of rain began to fall. “I-I was successful, you know, in leaving,” he began. “I promise, I was. But I came back.” He looked back and forth between them, laughing unsteadily. “I came back, but I didn’t want to be back. Things were better without me; he had the life he deserved, and you were happy, Lucy, I could see you were. I did my best to disappear, to let go, but I just kept on growing and growing, and it only took the slightest thought out of me and suddenly, I was in control again, and he was the one who was fighting.”

By then his words were strained, and he was struggling to get them out. The rain was falling more heavily, making it harder to listen. “Because I’m the s-stronger one, but I shouldn’t be. I didn’t want to return to a pathetically stolen life. I’m nothing but a parasite; look at what I’ve done to him! I’ve taken his entire being, taken the very energy from him and made him nothing. If I’d never existed, he’d be fine!” He broke down into a whisper. “Everything would be.”

“Prof…”

“There has to be a way.” For a second, she had no idea who was actually speaking. “This can’t be it.”

Lucy stepped forward. “Ya don’t mean that, either of you. Please, Prof, just come home with us. You’re exhausted, we’ll work this ou’ after you’ve slept and calmed down.” She could barely breathe by that point, his words making her far too uneasy.

He remained still for a moment before he shook his head. “I just want my life back.” It was said quietly, but they caught the words. “I JUST WANT IT BACK!”

It all happened too fast. Maybe they’d stepped towards him too quickly and frightened him, or maybe it had been his intention from the beginning to get away. But he evaded their outstretched hands, stumbling to the side as he tried to stay far from them, swapping being the two personalities without any measure of control. But suddenly, he was too close to the edge, and his motion wouldn’t be stopped so easily.

She couldn’t scream.

In the air, he changed yet again, and suddenly his arms shot outwards, only just taking a hold of the ivy that ran along the central tower. Potty struggled, his fingers barely managing to grab a hold, but once they did he snapped into action. His feet found small holds in the wall, and he managed to pull himself upright and grip more ivy, panting.

“ARE YOU TRYING TO GET US KILLED, PLACID?!” he screamed. “Whatever happens to you happens to me, why don’t you just let me handle it!” He pressed himself against the wall as much as he could, not daring to move.

“ALFENDI!” Lucy ran to the edge, throwing her arm forward only to realise that he was closer to the other side, and there was no possible way she’d reach. He’d jumped an impressive distance.

Placid seemed to come back, looking shocked at what had transpired. He tried to move his arms, but they were frozen in place, both out of fear and the cold. Looking back at Lucy, he could only make eye contact for a second before closing them.

“I guess this is where it all began. Do you remember when I first came back from seeing Justin in prison?” he called. “When I found out about how he brainwashed me?”

“Y-Yes, I do.” She looked behind her for some form of guidance from Hershel, only to be met with an empty tower. She could faintly make out the sound of footsteps running down the stairs. Turning back to Alfendi, she tried not to panic. “Prof, stay calm, we’ll find a way to get you dow-”

“And I was distraught, Lucy, I truly was,” he interrupted. “Not only shouldn’t I have been in existence, I was the product of a cheap guide, made for no other reason but to be a witness testimony. Everything I thought about myself was a lie.” He looked back at her. “But you… you decided it couldn’t be so.”

She nodded. “You’re righ’, of course there’s more to it.”

He gave her a small smile. “But Lucy, we tried to find the more, remember? We did try to find the truth behind what happened.” He stopped for a second, his arms shaking, though he managed to grab another handful of the fragile ivy to steady himself. “We went investigating that very afternoon, you and I. And then the next one, and the next. We researched for hours on end about possible causes for my condition and got nowhere.”

“But… we will.”

But she knew they’d given up long ago. Days turned into weeks, the frequency dropping dramatically as time stretched on, until months passed without so much as a mention. Some days she’d looked at him and his eyes would be incredibly empty, and she’d never understood why.

Until then, when she saw the exact same look in his eyes as the rain soaked his entire body, his trembling hands barely able to keep hold.

They’d failed.

“There aren’t any answers to find, Lucy. This is it.” He let out a shuddering sigh. “I was a tool in Justin’s game, and nothing more. What’s the point in thinking otherwise? This whole concept of me being here still… it makes no sense.”

“P-Please don’t say that,” she whispered. “Alfendi, it doesn’t matter 'ow you got here, okay? You’re here to stay. The two of you mean the world to me, and you didn’t see everythin’ that happened.” She sucked in a breath, trying to hold herself together. “I were distraught when you left, and I didn’t know what to think. I hoped that you’d return and you didn’t, and it were hurting me to believe you would. Part of me felt guilty for opening up to Potty, because it was like betraying you, but ignoring him was no better. Nothing made sense to me. But now it does, because I fell in love wi’ the two of you. Not just Placid Prof and not just Potty.”

“She’s correct. Alfendi Layton is far more than one of you; it’s a name the belongs to both, that connects you in a way that cannot be changed.”

Hershel had finally reached the other tower, looking entirely out of breath, but his determined gaze did not waver from his son, who had turned his head carefully to meet his eyes. He leant over the side, his hand extended as far as it could reach.

“Neither of you chose for this to happen,” the Professor continued. “But trying to force one half of you away was never going to solve a problem that didn’t exist. Temporarily, perhaps, but two people have been Alfendi Layton for so long; it could never last. That fact that you were drawn back proves that you’re meant to be here.”

“Dad…” Placid closed his eyes, and Lucy at last saw some sense being drawn into him. Slowly, he began to shuffle towards the east tower, being careful not to break away the ivy. But suddenly, he stopped.

“I disappeared for a year. An entire year, and nothing happened!” This time it was Potty, and his voice was entirely bitter. “And it was by my choice that I shoved him out of my body; he wasn’t doing a thing, but I eventually had to fight to survive.” He laughed slightly at the joke he’d become, gritting his teeth. “What sort of life is that, Father? Not even belonging to your own body?”

Through the haze of the rain, she noticed his grip loosening slightly.

“I don’t know.” Hershel looked far more serious then. “Alfendi, I honestly have no clue. The mysteries of the mind surpass all else.”

“Am I not just another complicated puzzle for you to solve?”

Hershel smiled softly. “Far from it. Unless you asked for my help, I wouldn’t even try to find the answers about you. I don’t believe they’re needed to define who you are.”

He scoffed. “How could you possibly care about who I am? How could you even pretend to love me when there’s another side that’s so much better?”

The Professor’s hat was gripped tightly with his free hand. “I know we have our differences Alfendi, that’s no secret. But no amount of them could prevent me from loving my son and wanting him safe… both of him.”

Alfendi stayed silent, but then slowly, he nodded. Shutting his eyes tight, he again climbed towards his father, his Placid side returning. Doing the best he could not to slip, he eased his way over, the ivy not quite enough to hold him as some of it tore from the wall and forced him to be more careful. He at last was close enough to grab hold of the Professor’s hand, being pulled up onto the rooftop and engulfed into an embrace.

“We’ll meet you at the bottom, Lucy,” Hershel called, supporting Alfendi the best he could.

“Righ’!” she called back, the numbness she’d felt for the past minute or so fading. Running down as quickly as she could, her heart hammered.

She was going to see both of them.

Lucy didn’t bother waiting at the bottom, starting up the east tower as quickly as her exhausted legs would allow until she found them on the third floor. Wasting no time, she pulled Alfendi close to her, and he gripped her tightly in return. The relief well and truly sunk in.

Placid was back. Potty seemed more at peace about it than he’d ever shown before, and most importantly, they were both safe.

She could faintly see the changes his hair was undergoing each second; he didn’t seem to be sticking to a personality for long, and she was glad as it gave her the chance to hug them both. As she felt the wetness of his cheeks, she felt her own eyes tear up, until his body relaxed and she had to use all her strength to support him.

“Al?” she said, her heart jumping. “Alfendi?!”

With Hershel’s help, she lowered him to the ground, having not a clue what was wrong. She shook him slightly, calling his name again, until his eyes fluttered open.

He took her hand gently, giving the smallest of smiles. “Lucy,” he said quietly, “now that all the excitement’s over, I’m completely and utterly exhausted. Control that voice box of yours before I remove it.”

“Alfendi,” Hershel muttered.

Lucy found herself laughing, pressing her forehead to his. “Of course you are, Prof. But you told me a while back that sleep were a waste of time.”

His eyes shut again. “Perhaps I lied,” he muttered.

“Perhaps you did. Now shush an’ rest.”

But he only did so when he was laying down in the back of the Commissioner’s car, his head resting on Lucy’s lap as they sped off far from a nightmare that they hoped to leave behind.


	21. Quiet

She’d been awake for a while.

But Lucy had been content enough to stay exactly where she was, lying against the body of a man she’d missed too much. Some people would have said he’d never left. To an extent, they were entirely incorrect. To another, they weren’t so wrong.

She breathed in gently, appreciating the stillness mornings always brought with them. Regardless, she could gradually feel her body growing impatient, and a small aching in her chest told her that it was time to eat. When she turned her head slightly to look at her alarm clock, careful not to disrupt Alfendi, she discovered that it was just past midday. That didn’t surprise her; they’d gotten back late.

What did, though she supposed it wasn’t unreasonable, was that Alfendi remained motionless beside her. If it were any other day, he’d have been awake long before her. But this wasn’t an ordinary day, and after what had happened, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to sleep through the week.

But they’d have to face the aftermath of the previous night. Today, they would have to talk about what happened and figure out something. Perhaps not a solution, because there wasn’t one, but anything that would make them rest easier at night, make them feel more secure.

She tried to force the thought out of her mind, just for a little while. She didn’t think she could cope with something like that happening again, and the thought frightened her too much.

The priority right then, however, was to get something to eat. Turning around to look into his relaxed face, she quickly pressed her head against his chest again.

“Alfendi, you should get up, jus’ for a little while,” she whispered. “Have some breakfast.”

He exhaled, shaking his head gently. “But it’s so much nicer here. I don’t need anything.”

She’d missed his childishness. “I can ‘ear your stomach rumbling, Prof.” She giggled slightly, and was glad to see him smile as he opened his eyes. “I promise, you can go and get some more rest afterwards, but your body needs more than one kind o’ energy. It weren’t only sleep you were lacking.”

She felt his arms encircle her waist, appreciating the warmth even through her sleepwear. “Curses. Who taught you to argue a case well?”

Kissing his forehead as she sat up, Lucy rubbed her eyes. “I’ll go an’ make something, it shouldn’t take long.”

Closing the door to the room carefully after gathering her clothing, she dressed in the bathroom, giving herself a chance to wake up before facing the day properly. In some respects, she envied Alfendi; he had a perfectly good excuse to remain in bed for most of its duration. She did not.

After spending too long making sure her hair was parted perfectly, she entered the kitchen, jumping a little when she noticed she was not alone.

 _Oh, Lord_ , Lucy thought, mortification steadily making its way through her entire body. She’d forgotten completely about the other Layton in the household, the one she’d insisted could stay when they’d arrived back in the early hours of the morning.  _Brilliant first impression, Lucy, just_ brilliant.

“Er, good afternoon,” she said, nervousness creeping into her voice. “I’m so sorry I’m only up now, I jus’…”

Hershel turned towards her from the bench, giving her a soft smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. He looked just as she felt; exhausted and still bubbling with questions about repercussions. Though it hurt her to see him that way, she was somewhat comforted to know that she wasn’t alone.

She also noticed that he was without his hat, seeing it resting on the table. That was mildly surprising, but she supposed he couldn’t wear it all the time.

“Not to worry, I haven’t been awake long myself. We did get back rather late… almost four, I believe. I hope you didn’t mind me making myself a cup of tea.” He lifted it up to demonstrate. “I must commend you on your tastes.”

“Not at all, an’ I’m glad you approve.” She felt herself relaxing, opening the fridge.

There was a slight pause before the Professor spoke again. “Will Alfendi be joining us?”

“He’ll be up soon, not for long though. I thought I’d make him something to eat, he needs it.”

“Might I suggest scrambled eggs? They’ve always been his favourite.”

Taking out the needed ingredients, she nodded, smiling more genuinely. “Scrambled eggs it is, then. I’ll make some for all of us.”

She soon found herself slowly stirring the eggs in the frying pan as Hershel prepared the toast and two more cups of tea. While the silence was initially comfortable, the task being enough to distract her, it began to upset her more and more as each second submerged in it passed, the urge to scream hitting her hard. She finally had to lean against the bench once she had finished, breathing in shakily.

Her vision became a little blurry, and she managed to choke out her words when she saw the Professor stop what he was doing to look at her. “We almost l-lost 'im.”

Slowly, he nodded. He pulled her into a slight embrace, inhaling. “I know. I’ve been awake for most of the night thinking about how events could have transpired differently. If he hadn’t been able to grab a hold of the ivy, or if it had broken, or what would have happened if we hadn’t arrived at all.” His lips pressed together. “As a father, they’re horrible things to consider.”

She wiped her eyes a little when he let go of her, though a hand remained on her shoulder. “I know. I kept on waking up last night, just to check he was really there.” She exhaled. “And now what? What are we supposed t’  _do_?”

“Now, I’m here and nothing like that is going to occur again. You don’t need to do a thing.”

Both of their heads turned instantly, and Lucy’s eyes rushed to take in Alfendi. He didn’t seem upset, only serious; it was his Placid side.

“You cannot pass off a breakdown as a definite one-time occurrence, my boy,” Hershel replied. “While I understand that you seem far better today, it doesn’t mean we can’t be concerned for your health. Something caused it.”

“Yes, and it wasn’t  _my_  fault, was it?” His hair turned crimson in an instant, his voice sharp. “Here I was, thinking you’d be thrilled at the thought of having a slightly  _less_ psychologically ruined son! I’m telling you that I’m fine!”

Lucy sighed, stepping forward to wrap her arms around him. “Steady on. We’re allowed to worry for you, Prof.”

He closed his eyes, and she watched as he faded back into his calmer self. “I know you are,” he said carefully. “And I’m sorry for the events of last night, you know I am. But, as you can understand, a lack of sleep was partially to blame. I was in a vulnerable state that I don’t intend on entering again.”

“While that may be true, intentions have little to do with it. Things  _happen_.” Hershel paused a moment before looking at him directly. “You never saw anybody about your split personality when you discovered it. Not even when you hadn’t, and you were recovering from the events of your shooting.”

It took a few seconds for the weight of his father’s words to burden him. Alfendi looked away. “No, I did not,” he muttered.

“Perhaps it’s time that you did. You’ve had a lot to cope with on your own in the last five years.”

“Absolutely not,” he spat. He stepped backwards, forcing Lucy to let go as he shook his head. “I don’t need them pretending to know what’s inside my head, acting as though there’s something  _wrong_  with me, that I’m a freak. They’ll think what everybody else does, that I’m the abnormality, the  _demon_. I’m not-”

“-You don’t know that they’ll think that-”

“- _damaged._ And I do, I know what they’re like. I don’t need them.”

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest. “If one of them thinks that, then we’ll try another, and another, until there’s one that has some sense. They’re out there, I know they are.” She lowered her voice as she spoke next, looking at him pleadingly. “I just want you safe, Al, an’… maybe this will help.”

He looked at her for a moment, being forced to tear his gaze away. “I’m already safe.” He spoke uncertainly, and for the first time Lucy considered that he too might still be frightened.

“There’s no shame in asking for assistance,” Hershel added. “None at all. After all that’s happened, it’s only reasonable.”

Alfendi’s hair underwent a series of changes quite quickly, flickering between a bright crimson to a dull purple. For a second, Lucy held her breath, worried for the outcome. Though, as he continued, she had the distinct impression he was genuinely in control of it, that he was somehow conferring with himself.

It was fascinating to witness.

It finally rested between the two colours, one simple word being spoken in a voice they wasn’t one or the other.

“Okay.”

Hershel stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as he smiled.

And Alfendi returned it.

 –

He retreated not long after their meal at their insistence, being that he was barely able to retain conversation, struggling to keep his eyes open. But by that point, everybody felt more at ease, like they would be able to pull themselves back together. Not immediately, but sometime.

The presence of the Professor was welcoming in Lucy’s flat, and they found themselves talking through the day, ranging from their jobs to travel to Hershel’s well known adventures, until conversation at last rested on Alfendi.

She couldn’t stop herself from beaming. “She really dressed him up?”

The man’s lips twitched, trying to conceal a smile. “Yes. Flora used him as her model for designing young children’s clothing often… he was too small at the time to understand, so it was fortunate she never took him out in public.” He seemed to recall the memories with fondness.  “When he got older and finally worked out that she’d put him in dresses, he wasn’t happy at all, especially when he discovered her designs had been praised highly by other professionals.”

“It’s not surprising he weren’t… I can just picture it.” She giggled uncontrollably at the thought.

By then it was getting dark, and she’d already lit the fire to help fight the cold that was creeping in. As she put another log on, he spoke again.

“It’s regretful, that we did not get to meet earlier.”

She nodded, sitting back down. “Aye, I agree; it’s been a pleasure. Alfendi should have introduced us sooner.”

“I understand why he did not. Though it’s improved, our relationship is still… difficult.”

It wasn’t hard for her to imagine that might be the case. They seemed like such different people, particularly the more aggressive side of the inspector. She could only wonder how things changed when his split personality came about; an improvement, certainly, but perhaps for all the wrong reasons. “It can only get better from here, is what I think.”

“I certainly hope so.” He placed down his cup, smiling contently. “I can tell that you help him, Lucy, and for that I’m thankful. I think you’re what he needs… and to make things better, wants too.”

She managed to laugh. “Isn’t that a relief?” But she felt pride well up inside her uncontrollably. “Thank you, and try not to worry about him. I’ll make sure he’s alright, and that he doesn’t get into too much trouble.”

“That’s comforting to know, it truly is.” He rose, walking towards the table where he’d earlier placed his hat. Putting it on carefully, he looked back at her. “I should be going, but thank you for allowing me to stay. I might call in to check how he is in a day or so, if that’s alright.”

“O’ course it is, whenever you like.”

“Then I’ll see you soon, Lucy. It really was nice meeting you, though the circumstances weren’t favourable. Once he’s feeling better, I’ll have to invite you both to come for dinner, so you can meet Flora.” She was surprised to hear him wince after the suggestion. “But we’ll go to a restaurant, or else she’ll insist on cooking.”

As she watched him enter the bus, squinting through the darkness, she realised how late it had gotten. She was feeling just that bit too tired, and given she had nothing else to do, decided it was about time she followed in Alfendi’s lead.

Slipping back into her sleepwear, she re-entered her bedroom, crawling under the warm covers. Almost immediately, she felt his arms encase her, his face close to hers.

The contact was nice. “Feeling okay?” she whispered.

He nodded, and she could see in the dim lighting that it was Potty. “Lucy?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, for hurting you.”

Allowing the words to sink in, she sighed. “Prof-“

“No, listen. You weren’t happy when he left, and I ignored that. I wasn’t lying when I said that I couldn’t bring him back, but I shouldn’t have done it to begin with. I can’t say that I regret it entirely, because it meant I had my life back, and was able to do things my way. I could finally see you, yet I ignored you.”

“It’s over, Al, and that’s all that matters.”

He stared up at the ceiling. “Perhaps I worried none of this would work, in my state.”

She found herself threading her fingers through his hair, leaning over to kiss him. It seemed like an eternity since she’d done it last, and he responded gradually, drawing her closer to him until Lucy could feel nothing but the rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat under her fingertips.

She broke away for just a second, smiling. “It works, Prof. I promise you it does.”

There was a pause as he kissed her again, moving on to press a series down her neck. She could only make out one gentle word as he held her against him, exhaling.

“Perfect.”


	22. Compromise

“We should talk.” The quieter one stated the obvious.

The more fierce side held his tongue, but didn’t quite manage to stop his eyes from rolling back, or the ground from shaking in unspoken frustration. “Yes.”

They stepped forward together into a constantly shifting world, one donning a long white coat, the other dressed crisply in a suit jacket. Sometimes, their surroundings would be a field, until the freshness of the scene faded into a busy city, and then to mountain plains. Neither of them paid attention to such trivial things.

“I understand your frustration. I cannot relate, but I understand. I did steal your life; it wasn’t because I chose to, but nonetheless, when I became aware of your presence, I tried to block you out. At the time, I thought it was the wisest choice. I was terrified of what I could do to people. But even when I discovered that you were here first, I didn’t give up that control, not completely, and for that I am sorry.”

Dark clouds began to gather overhead, a slight rumbling vibrating through the air as they stopped moving. The quieter one frowned, but said not a word.

“I cannot describe the anger that fills me every time I consider it,” the fierce one snapped. “You taking  _my_  body and me being left out of it, as though I didn’t belong. But then again, perhaps you feel the rage too… you just don’t  _act_  on it. You’re too  _weak_ to act on it, and you don’t really understand why it exists.” His lips turned upwards. “I’m not just a demon. There are reasons.”

The clouds began to thin out above them, but did not fade completely, and they continued to walk again.

“Demon isn’t the word for it, though I still hold that you could have no reason at all to be angry, and you’d find a way.”

“Yes, I agree entirely. Because you don’t see a reason for my anger, but I do.”

“And perhaps your petty reasons damage people,” the other continued, for the first time a sort of agitation present within his curt words. “Like Hilda.”

The temperature of their surroundings became non-existent; both were submerged into a feeling of nothingness at the mention of her name. The more aggressive one tried to form a response, his mouth open in preparation to deliver the biting remark, but he closed it.

“You wouldn’t know,” he finally said.

“Were the two of you truly happy?” the one in the coat asked. “Fighting worked for then, but do you think either of you could have lasted if your relationship had no other foundation but that?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ll stitch your mouth shut it you don’t close it immediately!” Still there was only numbness, and unlike the strong rumbling of the sky earlier, the small flickers of wind portrayed no confidence.

The quieter one sighed. “I’ve thought about it, you know, and I believe I’ve worked things out, just a little. You need me. You don’t like that fact, but it doesn’t change its existence.”

“You’re  _wrong_.”

“You’re capable of loving, I have no doubt, but you can’t do so without hurting those around you, even accidentally. With Hilda, it was a force of insults to rival her own, and with Lucy, it was refusing not to smoke in her presence, just because your stubbornness has no end. You never set out to harm her; you just couldn’t help but act  _stronger._ ”

A sudden chill engulfed them both at the memory, and they were forced to lean against a wall behind them, gasping for air as her dazed face flickered in front of them, her weak voice echoing in their surroundings before becoming nothing but a ringing in their ears.

The aggressive one began to recover first, though his face was a hint paler. Pushing himself off the wall, he panted slightly, his hand on his forehead. “And you’re the one who stops me from hurting others, is that correct? The knight, the  _protector_?”

“I’m the one who forces you to take out your passion for conflict on criminals, as opposed to anybody else.” He sighed, meeting the other’s eyes properly as they both continued to straighten up, shaking off the sickness they’d felt. “As much as you’d love it to be the case, most people are not criminals.”

The fiercer one scoffed, but didn’t try to prove him wrong, aside from a small, “They  _could_  be.”

“And while I agree, your want for such a scenario is what separates us.”

Neither spoke for a while, only watching as the sky overhead fell dark, the stars fighting to be seen but largely overshadowed by the moon. They’d arrived at a small dock, deciding to stand on the pier, the water moving gently below.

Finally, the more subdued one exhaled. “I don’t feel like we have much time left. Moments like these are rare, and I’m astounded we even had a chance to talk, given we’re still exhausted. I’ll sum things up; for the best, we’ve got to work together. Compromise. If not for us, for Lucy.”

At the sound of her name, warmth spread through the air, and neither could stop themselves from smiling.

“She’s the only person I  _would_  compromise for, because she did love me in your absence.” The suited man couldn’t help but smirk. “Though I’d prefer to keep her to myself, the fact that I don’t have to, that she’d love me anyway…”

“Lucy’s strong. She’d never allow something like this to scare her, though she’s definitely aware it will bring about some challenges.”

“Of course she is. If she wasn’t before, after the incident she just witnessed she must be. Yet she’s decided to stay with us.” He shook his head. “When in my life did I develop feelings of fondness like these, spurring from such a simple act?”

Still the warmth continued, even when both began to fade.

“Perhaps it was when you learned you could.”


	23. Free

Things couldn’t go back to normal.

There was a substantial shift within the routine of the Mystery Room and the lives of those inside it. It was clear that somebody had returned; no huge celebration was experienced as a result, which was strangely fitting. On the surface, all appeared similar to what it had been, though Dustin and Sniffer commented that even the Placid side of Alfendi had taken to leaving the office for investigations, a sight rarely seen previously.

They were also grateful to find that there was an absence of smoke.

In this new routine, from approximately nine to one on Thursdays any cases given to the Mystery Room would not be handled by Inspector Layton and DC Baker, but only the latter. Whether or not she chose to remain within the office was at her discretion; at times, the reconstruction machine was dusted off, loaded with data and used to its best. At others, she saw that it was better to learn from true observation. One side of her colleague appreciated this immensely.

It wasn’t normal, but not being normal was exactly right. Normal was in the past – and even then it hadn’t worked – and something new was emerging. It felt correct.

It was Thursday afternoon. Concluding a satisfying case with the not quite as satisfying paperwork, Lucy looked up as the door opened, signing off the last form.

“Welcome back,” she greeted, smiling widely. “How were it?”

The exaggerated sigh, as well as the equally as dramatic flop onto the couch, gave her all the information she needed.

“I know. But ya doing well.”

Alfendi managed only a wry smile, taking the cup of tea that had been prepared minutes prior for his return. After a few long sips, he exhaled, leaning back.

“It’s uncomfortable, letting them see into my mind like that. Exhausting, too. But I haven’t suffered one of those headaches for a while now, two weeks I believe. I’d almost prefer them to being so tired all the time though.”

“It’ll called bein’ human, Prof. You’d still function better than the rest o’ us with half the amount of sleep.”

The smile was more genuine this time. “Well, that’s not all too difficult. And the rest of you waste all those hours in unconsciousness, at the peak of vulnerability where anybody could so easily wrap their hands around your throat, or press a gun to your head, or maybe even just get into your house and poison your drink of choice for when you wake up!”

It was Lucy’s turn to sigh. “You’re just bein’ silly now. It’s hardly as bad as you claim.”

“No, it’s not. But it’s bad enough.”

She rose, moving with her arms outstretched to pull him up, pressing him close to her. There were some things, like a new development in a case, which he could adapt to easily, being as fluid as water. For others, he was like a brick wall, and she knew it was one of those times. “I’m proud o’ you,” she murmured.

The moment didn’t last long, but she was glad to feel his hands reach over to smooth her hair. “Thank you. It will get easier.”

“O’ course it will.” She wished she could stay close to him for a little longer, only the knowledge that they were at work hung over her head. They needed to at least try and keep some boundaries, as tempting as it was to forget for a while. “I need to run these files up to the Commissioner, he were particularly interested in the outcome. It shouldn’t take long,” she said, drawing away.

“I’ll just deactivate the crime scene reconstruction while you’re gone, will I?” he said disapprovingly, noticing the hologram still flickering in the corner.

“Ta, I’d like that very much thank you.” In another second, her cheery voice was gone.

Smiling, he rose, beginning to press the various buttons that ran along the machine’s surface, parts of the scene fading as he did so. He hadn’t yet completed the process when somebody knocked on the wooden door politely.

“Come in,” he called.

He heard gentle footsteps, and that alone told him it wasn’t Lucy, given she nearly always ran inside as if she couldn’t waste precious seconds. Furthermore, she never knocked. It was as much her office as his.

Before he turned around, they spoke. “Is that the robbery I heard about this morning?”

“Most likely,” Alfendi replied, looking back at the older Layton who had entered. He couldn’t help but reconstruct the scene once more. “Care to try solving it? I haven’t yet myself, Lucy did so while I was out.”

“Bombarding an old man like me with a mystery seconds after he enters the room?” Hershel couldn’t help but chuckle. “I fear I’ll be no match for you, but let’s try.”

Alfendi spun the scene with his hand, almost absent minded. “This isn’t an ordinary robbery; it wouldn’t have been sent to me if it was. It would have gone to the department that specialises in that kind of crime.”

“It wouldn’t have made the front page in the newspaper either,” Hershel mused. “Strangely enough, they didn’t mention what had been stolen.”

“Didn’t they, now? Well, we’ll have to work it out.”

Six minutes and thirty four seconds later, a once composed gentleman was considerably pleased with their work, and Alfendi’s purple hair had transformed into a vibrant red. “ _Ha_! What a fraud, reporting stolen political documents to the police when somebody else took them afterwards!”

“A perplexing case indeed. But we are both in agreement about who the true culprit was, aren’t we?”

“Clearly it was his wife, who seemed to be having an affair with the politician the documents were about.” He smirked. “They’re fortunate it was Lucy who conducted the interrogation. I would have enjoyed breaking the news  _far_  too much.”

Hershel sighed. “I don’t doubt that you would have. I think I could do with a cup of tea after that.”

“Earl Grey?”

“That sounds lovely.”

After Alfendi had prepared tea for both, taking a seat on the other side of his desk, a silence fell over them as they warmed their hands against the cups, neither sure what to say. A few minutes crawled by and the younger man found himself clearing his throat.

Though it shouldn’t have been, the situation was uncomfortable.

“Was there a reason for your visit?”

Hershel shook his head. “A father rarely has a specific purpose in wanting to visit his son, aside from wishing to see him.” He looked down at his drink for a little longer than was natural, a faint sigh escaping. “Though, we haven’t spoken in a while. I grew… concerned.”

The inspector’s hair, which had been fading to purple, began to brighten again. “ _Worried_ for me?” he said, voice not entirely even. He stood up, his palms resting on the surface of the desk to keep steady. He exhaled quickly in frustration. “Can’t you trust me when I say that I’m  _fine_? Even ask Lucy; I’ve been going to all those blasted appoin-”

“That’s not what I meant,” Hershel interrupted. For a few seconds he awaited a sharp retort before deciding to clarify. “I wasn’t worried about you, only of growing apart from you again.”

“What do you mean?” Alfendi said roughly.

“I’m not expecting us to get along perfectly from now on,” Hershel began. “We have our differences, and they’ve driven us apart for most of your life.” He stopped, seeming to consider how best to continue. “But I don’t believe that has to be the reality; when we solved that case together just now, it was like we were two friends who did so often. I prefer puzzles, and you, a crime scene, but we both like to think, to be challenged. We have that and more in common, Alfendi, and that’s what we should focus on rather than our differences.” He stopped for a moment, finishing off his tea and placing the cup on his desk. “It’s not easy, but achievable.”

The silence returned, heavier this time. They didn’t look away from one another, remaining motionless until finally, one spoke.

“You really believe this?”

“I do.”

Potty managed a smile. “I suppose a gentleman has no choice but to keep his word?”

Touching his hat lightly, Hershel nodded. “Always.”

“Then I suppose an inspector has no choice but to believe the evidence.” The tension between them began to soften, Alfendi’s muscles relaxing considerably. “I’ve yet to apologise. And to thank you.”

“Whatever for?” Hershel questioned, pleased to feel the lessened animosity at last.

Alfendi sat down again, drinking what was left of his tea. His finger trailed the brim of the cup as he thought. “I did worry you,” he replied finally, and Hershel was faintly surprised to find that it was not Placid speaking. “Not just while we were at Forbodium Castle, but all those years before it. I was always running away looking for trouble, and it was greatly satisfying, only… I suppose I can understand your concern. I don’t always appreciate it or think it’s necessary, but I understand.” He choked out the words as though they were unpleasant to admit, and that made them genuine.

He looked up, calmer then. “And I’m going to thank you for being a father to me. Not just to your true son, but the one who appeared suddenly out of nowhere, entirely different to the one you knew so well. You were surprised, though I didn’t think much of it at the time, but took me in regardless while I was still recovering from being shot. You treated me just as you would have treated him, and I’m entirely grateful for that.”

“You are just as much my son as your other side, Alfendi. It may not have always been this way, but I believe you were meant to be here eventually.” He gave him a soft smile. “I should thank you too. You may not know it, but it’s you who has managed to repair the elements of his life that were quickly breaking without his control. Without you… well, I don’t believe things would have gone so well for him.”

“…I can hear you, you know,” Potty muttered.

Hershel chuckled. “I thought you could. But it’s something you need to recognise too, my boy.”

“Oh, I do. He’s already aware that he’s the knight in shining armour.”

“You can’t live a life where two beings in the same body don’t appreciate each other at all.”

“Well then, I appreciate him because we haven’t died yet due to some idiotic decision he’s made.” He suddenly shook his head, as if to rid himself of something. “I might say the same thing,” Placid muttered, drawing his hand up to his forehead with a gentle sigh.

Catching each other’s glances, it took just a moment for them to only laugh.

—

As the sunlight streamed in through the window after Hershel had left – though Alfendi knew he hadn’t because he could hear Lucy chatting happily with him outside their office – he allowed a smile to settle on his features.

He wouldn’t have admitted to anybody, not even Lucy, that he’d lived in fear that it would be impossible to be happy. Not to be deprived of the feeling entirely, but to one day look upon his life and decide that it hadn’t been what he’d liked. He’d never thought there would be a way for two sides so different to find something that worked for both.

He was 96.4 per cent certain. He couldn’t have been happier that the remaining 3.6 per cent had prevailed and proven him wrong.

For the first time, he felt free.


End file.
